Fragments
by Shadowblayze
Summary: Half-spun plotlines and ideas that won't leave me alone, but don't quite deserve their own story either. Harry and Tsuna are my favoritest characters, so most snippets will revolve around them in some manner, but the Varia are also quite beloved. (I reclassified this because...reasons. Mostly because not all Fragments are going to be HP/KHR.)
1. Lussuria the Fairy Godmother (KHR-HP)

**Be Careful What You Wish For**

or

 **Lussuria the Fairy Godmother and How That Happened**

There are some dark parts, especially in Lussuria's backstory, but I really don't think it's anything extraordinarily graphic or alarming and rating-appropriate.

* * *

The baby who would grow up to become Lussuria of the Varia wasn't really welcomed into the world so much as he was thrust ungracefully into it.

The boy wouldn't even be held by his mother, taken by the hospital staff and cleaned and sent to the nursery while the woman signed the papers that severed her rights and responsibilities to the child she had just delivered without pause.

He was the product of an affair, after all, a night of passion between two Mafioso who weren't quick enough to hide the consequences of their actions before word leaked out, meaning that they simply couldn't 'fix' their little problem, lest they lose standing. With the Second World War barely two decades past, the Korean War still fresh in their minds, and the Vietnam War raging, (not to mention all the other conflicts, less-publicized wars, and passive-aggressive wars raging around them), none of the Famiglia could afford to show the tiniest shred of weakness, especially if it was easily avoided.

Fortunately, while the father was a married man, he didn't have any other children and was getting rather on in years, so they had chosen to spin the situation as having planned to use the woman to grant him an heir all along, (even though everyone knew that was a big, fat lie). The man's wife, well used to his philandering ways, was easily placated with shiny things and promises of minimal interactions with the little hellion.

So, the boy who would become Lussuria became the sole ward of his father before he was even fifteen minutes old.

* * *

"Such a handsome little man." The woman cooed as she pinched his cheeks condescendingly. "Your eyes are so _pretty_."

At the age of seven, the boy who would become Lussuria's world had crashed down around him.

He hadn't really liked his life with his family, to be honest, but it had been tolerable compared to the life he that he was living now. He'd had to do exactly as he was told, when he was told to do it, and no questions asked. He'd had to dance to their tune exactly, no room for improvisation or creativity, which had made him feel like he was drowning in normalcy but at least-

Well, in the middle of the night nearly six months ago, his family had been slaughtered, so none of that mattered now.

 _Slaughtered_.

 _All of them_.

(Even the bitchy lady.)

 _In a single night._

The boy had been young enough that he hadn't been deemed a threat, so he'd been deemed part of the 'spoils', his rich chocolate-colored hair and jewel-tones eyes making him an 'investment'.

He was sold to what he found was called a Collector- someone who enjoyed owning Pretty Things- or people, in his case.

(The boy had learned a lot about what was hidden underneath pretty smiles and kind eyes over the last few months.)

Of course, he was lucky, the particular person who 'owned' him usually settled for words over touch.

She liked to take him places and show him how 'lucky' he was to have her, though. (There was one Collector who used his Pretty Things until they died, and the boy's Collector took great delight in telling him that she'd sell the boy to that particular Collector if the boy ever tried to run or tell the police.)

* * *

The boy was there for nearly a year, the Collector slowly chipping away at him and trying to superimpose her will onto the boy as she sought to break him into her puppet a being entirely dependent on her and her whims, but the boy was strong and stubborn, refusing to bend to someone else's will.

(The Sun has always risen in the East, no matter the wills of men.)

* * *

**Nong Tum walked down the halls of the place she was staying, frustrated.

Her family was poor, but they supported her despite being absolutely bewildered by her transgender identity. She didn't want to _become_ a female, she _was_ a female, she just had a _male body_ at the moment.

The Muay Thai Champion took a moment to run through some breathing exercises and propped herself up against the wall. There was no use getting needlessly frustrated, it would only impair her concentration- her time as a monk-in-training had taught her that long before her Muay Thai training had reinforced those lessons.

The war was still raging within Vietnam and threatening to spill over into Thailand, but Thailand still needed to make money, so the Muay Thai bouts had been moved to India this year as a courtesy, meaning that instead of the familiar facilities she had grown used to over the past five years as a professional Muay Thai athlete, she now had to deal with an entirely unfamiliar country and their weird looks and probing, invasive questions when she requested her usual fare in training equipment and accommodations.

 _Just remember your goals_ , She told herself firmly as she started walking again, _Keep your eyes on the prize and don't stop_.

* * *

The boy who would become Lussuria huffed quietly as he carried the fruits of Madam's afternoon shopping spree up to the hotel room.

They were in Chennai, India on a shopping trip because the Muay Thai- apparently a boxing style from Thailand- bouts were being held here this year which had brought all sorts of merchants from Thailand and lower Asia to the city and Madam wanted to take advantage of such a thing.

Oh, well, at least it meant it would be a while before they visited Creeper Collector again.

The boy bumped into someone, immediately apologizing in quiet Tamil, (this area of India spoke mostly the Dravidian dialects, and he had only had time to learn Tamil to Madam's satisfaction prior to the trip), making sure to keep his head down and his eyes averted as he efficiently gathered the scattered packages.

A tanned hand reached down and began to assist him, " _Let-help_." The voice said in a dialect he couldn't speak, but could sort of understand.

The boy shook his head quickly, "She'll be angry." He breathed out, barely moving his lips.

"Pretty." A voice said from down the hall, "Who are you talking to?"

The boy tensed for a single moment, his whole body going rigid and his eyes widening with terror because _nononono_ -, and then he forced himself to relax and replied in Italian, "I slipped. I'm sorry for being so clumsy, Madam."

"Hmmm." The voice purred behind his ear as bright red nails scraped lightly against his cheek and the boy forced himself to remain calm. "It seems you need more _training,_ sweetheart."

* * *

Nong Tum was no stranger to the darker side of life, she had chosen Muay Thai as her path, but many of her _kathoey_ friends ended up as 'working girls' because few places would offer them lawful, gainful employment.

(Admittedly some of them were just whores or just liked the rush that came from being in control by making people pay to touch them. Some even went after the high-and-mighty types just to see if they could get the bastards to crumble.)

Having said that, Nong Tum was also from a poor family in a nation that was still behind the superpowers of the world in many ways- Thailand was still developing, for all that she had moved forward. So the Muay Thai Champion wasn't one to be taken in by pretty smiles or pathetic faces, but that brat-

Well, she did need a little messenger boy, and with all the people around it wouldn't be that hard to accident the crazy bitch the boy was with- it wouldn't be the first time Nong had done a 'side job', and it probably wouldn't be the last.

* * *

The boy stared blankly at the dead body of Madam before turning to look at the woman he'd run into earlier.

"Why?" He asked in Italian, hopelessly lost and confused by what he was feeling.

The woman eyed him carefully, "People like her," she said finally, (also in Italian), "Like to twist people to their own ends. They use pretty words and fake kindness until you're so wrapped up in them you can't escape- that was her endgame, you depending on her. I'm not a saint, either, kid. I want to use you as my messenger boy, to run my errands and such. In return, though, I'll train you to defend yourself in mind and body- which means making sure you're educated, you eat properly, and you have a place to sleep. I don't anticipate keeping you more than five years or so- meaning you do a good job until then, and after that you're free to go."

The boy though about everything in his life up until that moment and realized that this unrepentant murder was probably the kindest person he'd ever met.

"I'd like to go with you." He said finally.

The woman smiled, "Let's go then, brat."

* * *

"Keep your guard up, Lussuria!" Nong Tum barked to her student/messenger boy, "Stop looking for an opening and make one!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Lussuria- it was the name he had been given by one of Nong Tum's _kathoey_ friends once they'd found out that he was Italian and it had stuck- replied, trying to center himself as she'd taught him and feinting left as she came to his right.

"Too slow!" She howled gleefully as she whapped him in the back of the head.

(Lussuria was learning that there was a difference between _forging a weapon_ and _training a warrior_.)

* * *

"What are you looking at?" Nong Tum asked her charge, amused at his hasty scrambling to appear nonchalant.

"Nothing." He said quickly.

"Hmmhmm." She hummed, unimpressed. "And the truth?"

The boy blushed, "I like those sunglasses." He pointed to a bright red pair with thick red frames. He blushed further under her imperious raised eyebrow, "Everyone has always commented about my eyes….especially Madam. They're dark enough no one could see the color."

Ten minutes later, Lussuria was wearing his very first pair of red sunglasses.

(It became easier to hold his head up and look at people after that.)

* * *

"Oh! It's terrible Nong! What am I going to wear?!" her friend wailed as the other _kathoey_ rummaged through her closet in a panic, "that bitch is going to show me up and I'll never be able to show my face there again!"

"Girl!" Lussuria called from his spot on the bed, "What is that?"

The occupants of the room turned to see the sequined monstrosity that had been tossed out of the closet at some point and Lussuria whirled into action, his lessons from his family and Madam flowing together as he pinned and altered and fitted, stepping back from his work an hour later with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Oh, Lussuria-honey, this is _fabulous!_ " The other _kathoey_ crooned as she admired herself in the mirror.

Lussuria's smile faltered as he turned to peek at his mentor, suddenly afraid that she'd reject him for being so, so-

Nong Tum snorted, "Figures," She laughed from her position on the bed as her friend continue to do a Narcissus impression with the mirror, "That I'd find a _kathoey_ from _Italia_ in India."

Lussuria's smile was nearly blinding in its intensity.

(Acceptance is a powerful thing, especially for a nine-year-old boy.)

* * *

Eleven-year-old Lussuria gave Nong Tum one last hug. "Thank you." He whispered to her, "For everything. For teaching me how to dance, how to live, how to be myself. I'll never be able to say thank you enough."

Her arms tightened around him, "Be as safe as you can, Lussuria, but don't be afraid to forge your own path. Don't be ashamed of where you came from or who you are."

Lussuria wasn't meant to leave Nong Tum this early, but a week before there had been a pretty big fight in the city they'd been staying in, and during the melee Lussuria had activated his Sun Flames. While Nong Tum hadn't seen them, one of her friends had, and they had warned the pair that Lussuria needed to _get out_ of Thailand before the Triads heard about a Dying Will Flame user being in their territory.

So, with his backpack full of supplies, and a notebook chock-full of all the information the _kathoey_ had managed to put together about the Dying Will Flames and anything else they felt relevant for him to know, Lussuria left Thailand- and the only true family he'd even known- behind.

* * *

Being back in Italy was _weird_ , Lussuria decided.

He certainly didn't want to be recognized, so he'd gone the extra mile and dyed his hair green with a bright red strip on the left side at Mafia Land, (never underestimate the information network of a bunch of sex workers), and he'd registered as a freelance assassin.

(It wasn't that difficult of a life for him to slip into, honestly. His original family had taught him all the bullshit middle-upper class etiquette crap, Madam had filled in a lot of higher-class information, including the seedy underworld aspect of the rich and famous, and Nong Tum had had contacts _everywhere_ , so Lussuria was able to step into the life of a freelance assassin fairly easily.)

Lussuria knew that there was something broken inside him when it came to people, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

As much as he could heal someone who was on the brink of death and drag them back into the realm of the living one day, he could very easily turn around the next day and kill them if the job required it. There were very few people in this world he would refuse to kill, and they were all in Thailand at the moment.

His phone beeped, (and wasn't Mafia technology a surprise?!), and he noted that the next batch of assassination contracts had come up for grabs.

Well, material was _expensive_ and he did want to design a new uniform for himself…..

* * *

The next few years were pretty much a blurs of places, targets, and shopping trips.

Lussuria made little bolt holes all over Europe and Asia for his loot, a trailer here, a shipping container there, a small apartment in between- slowly building up a respectable amount of safe houses for an assassin to call their own.

He'd had a few run-ins with other Famiglia, but for all his now-comfortably-flaunted-flamboyance he was a damn good assassin, mostly leaving the cause of death and his completed Mafia Land contracts to tie to hits back to him.

Then came the day that he crossed paths with the Varia.

* * *

It was a simple job.

Go in, take out the target, maybe steal some clothes as they wouldn't be needing them any longer, and get out.

Lussuria wasn't expecting to run into the fucking Varia, the Vongola's secret-enshrouded Independent Assassination Squad, guarding the target. However, Lussuria hadn't failed a mission _yet_ , and he wasn't going to start now.

It took twice the amount of time he'd expected, but he managed to get the drop on the squad, taking out two of the four before they knew he was there. The third went down shortly thereafter, but the fourth was a damn fierce Cloud and it took everything Lussuria had to put the bastard down.

Then it was on to the target, but there was a fifth person that Lussuria had missed.

(Actually, it was the target who suddenly was no longer the target.)

Fuck.

The Varia leader, Tyr.

 _The fucking Boss of the motherfucking Varia- fuck Lussuria's life_.

The fight was brutal, and Lussuria held his own, but after fighting all the others and being wounded, fighting Tyr was no joke, so a few hours later Lussuria was under the man's sword, glaring defiantly up at the bastard.

Tyr chuckled darkly, "You have two options, die here or become the Varia Sun Officer."

Lussuria blinked slowly, "The _fuck_? Why haven't you killed me yet?"

"You're a damn powerful Sun." Tyr explained, "But you refuse to ally with any Famiglia, that makes the Vongola nervous. So this was a set up from the start. The Varia is down a Sun Officer, so either join us or die."

"You used your own men as sacrifices to get me under your thumb on the off chance I might serve you?" Lussuria spat back, ignoring the way the sword was digging deeper into the side of his neck. "You sick _motherfuckers_."

"Pretty rich, coming from an assassin like you."

"At least I have some honor."

"I have my pride as a swordsman." Tyr said simply, sword twisting slightly in the wound on Lussuria's neck, "So what's it going to be, brat? Death or the Varia?"

(There was something broken in Lussuria in regards to people, but those men out there had died for no good reason other than the Vongola's greed. Lussuria wasn't a good person, but he didn't want to die and he figured he owed the poor bastards at least that much."

"Varia." Lussuria spat through clenched teeth.

* * *

The Varia wasn't all that bad, Lussuria would grudgingly admit.

'Varia Quality' was very much a _thing_ , and for as good as he was, there had still been some work for Lussuria to fully make the cut, but he'd managed.

He loathed Tyr with a virulent passion, and Ottabio was a useless pile of waste, but Mammon was a joy to work with and his little Suns were fun to play with and he always got the best jobs.

(It was true that the Varia weren't paid an exorbitant amount of money, but they also didn't have to pay _for_ much, either, so they ended up being better off than most, despite most people thinking that they were poor. It was part of Mammon's scheme to make people underestimate the Varia and offer to pay for things for them.)

Lussuria turned fourteen on April 4th, and as the only other Officer that Mammon could stand, the Mist Officer actually bought Lussuria a birthday card.

"Mammy! You're the greatest!" Lussuria cooed as he scooped the tiny Mist into a hug and twirled them around, Mammon letting out a long-suffering sigh and muttering about charging the Sun Officer for touching them inappropriately.

* * *

Lussuria, having access to a wider range of information and resources, grew in power and ability quickly, and he was actually quite beloved by his subordinates, and though he loathed Tyr with a virulent passion, he was a good Officer so Tyr was actually pleased with the Varia Sun, despite Lussuria's quirks.

(Like Lussuria's penchant for making people think of him as a necrophiliac when he wanted to psyche them out during a fight.)

So when Benito Messano thought that he could sell Vongola secrets to INTERPOL and get away, Lussuria was handed the assassination.

It took nearly six months, and he accomplished a few other missions in between, (as if Mammon wouldn't find jobs for him to complete when Lussuria was already traipsing through several countries in pursuit of his target), but Lussuria finally tracked the man down in Little Whinging, Surrey, England nearing Christmas that year.

* * *

Harry Potter sat in his cupboard and _wished_.

(He had been startled by his cousin and the lights in the house had flickered, which had caused his Aunt to screech about freakishness and useless sister and chuck him into his little 'room'.)

His Primary class had watched the Disney movie 'Cinderella' the other day as part of 'It the Christmas Hols!' celebration, and he'd actually gotten to see at as Dudley had been too busy whining about the type of cake he'd been given to make up an excuse to get Harry thrown out. Aunt Petunia had been furious, of course, and Uncle Vernon had raised hell with the school on the phone, but Harry had gotten a taste of the fantastical and they couldn't take that away from him, not when they were constantly complaining about him being a 'freak'.

So, he sat in that dark cupboard with his arms wrapped around his knobby knees and _wished_ with all his heart and soul that his own Fairy Godmother would find him.

(Children have an amazing capacity for accomplishing the impossible entirely by accident simply because they do not understand that the circumstances that they are in are preposterously fortuitous.

The Winter Solstice is a time of life-death-rebirth, of shedding the old and making things new- combined with the raw plea of a child, the rage of a mother, and the whims of providence; it was truly a preposterously fortuitous set of circumstances.)

* * *

Arabella Figg had been watching the Dursley family for nearly eight years, (nearly three of those years were before Harry had come to them, when the war had been raging and Albus had been worried that Lily's muggle family might be targeted to get to James, especially after James became Lord Potter), and she had nothing nice to say about them and their treatment of little Harry Potter, but she also had nothing particularly bad to say about them either.

Harry had ragged clothes and bumps and bruises, but children were rough on clothing and boys would be boys. Harry was small for his age and rarely looked anyone in the eye, but some children were just shy.

No matter, she was calling on them this evening with her gentleman- Benjamin was such a dear! She was so lucky to have him!- and then she would enjoy her holiday.

* * *

Lussuria was _dying_.

Figuratively, of course.

These cookie-cutter houses were going to give him _hives_ , and the decorations were honestly going to make him _vomit_.

How could people live in a trash-heap like this? _So uncute_.

He noted his target and the target's date walking up to 'Cookie Cuttter House # 4' and knocking on the door.

Lussuria almost blew his cover when a Zoo animal in human form opened the door, but he was Varia Quality, so he managed to stay composed and silent.

 _Barely_.

Something niggled at him, though, like a tiny nudge at the back of his mind, something that whispered that there was something important to him in that house.

Well, Lussuria hadn't lived as long as he had by ignoring his instincts, and he also wasn't known for not indulgining himself.

He slunk over to the window below the dining room.

"Oh course Arabella! It's great to see you!" A shrill, grating voice was saying, and Lussuria kind of hated himself in that moment.

"-trouble you for very long, Petunia. How is little Harry doing?" An aged voice asked kindly, if crankily.

"The boy is fine, he just still doesn't know how to respect his betters." The shrill woman's tone had gone stone cold, and her reply was stiff.

Lussuria's mind blanked and for a moment he was back at Madam's.

" _Think you have the right to look me in the eye, pretty? I'll have to teach you respect your betters!"_

The Varia Assassin forced himself through his Muay Thai breathing exercises. It had been years since he'd thought about Madam. Years since he'd truly thought about Nong Tum, for all that she was his savior and light and master, but right now all he could think about was that night in the hotel when the boxer had ended Madam's life between one blink and the next and saved Lussuria from the fate of being a broken toy.

He was so lost in thought, he missed the rest of the conversation, but his training kicked in and when the couple departed, he followed them.

By midnight, his target was dead. Heart Attack.

(Lussuria's only weapon wasn't Muay Thai, and Activation was an underappreciated Aspect.)

* * *

Lussuria found himself back at 'Cookie Cutter House # 4'.

 _What are you doing Lussuria?_ He berated himself, even as he quietly broke into the backdoor of the residence, sniffing disdainfully at their 'state of the art' security.

Lussuria ghosted through the house, noting that from all the pictures and indications, only three people lived here.

Yet…

Lussuria was a Sun. He had a damn Pure Flame, too. This allowed him to do things that most other Sun Flame users couldn't even dream of doing, because they lacked the control and Flame Intensity to do so.

There were four people in this _shitty hellhole_.

Lussuria took a shaky breath and walked forward towards the little cleaning closet and quietly eased the door open, not truly surprised by the tiny boy inside.

(Messy jet-black hair, jewel-toned eyes _. Pretty Thing_.)

The boy smiled up at Lussuria, wide and bright and brilliant, "Hello." He whispered shyly, "are you my Fairy Godmother?"

* * *

Lussuria nearly _squealed_ at how _utterly fucking adorable_ the boy was, but he refrained, knowing how important the next few minutes were.

"I can be." Lussuria said cheerfully, but quietly, as he crouched down to look the boy in the eye, "But I'm going to be honest with you kiddo, I'm not a saint. I need a messenger boy, someone to run my errands and such. If you'll do that for me, I'll teach you how to defend yourself in body and mind- which means making sure you're educated, you eat properly, and you have a place to sleep. I don't anticipate keeping you more than five years or so- meaning you do a good job until then, and after that you're free to go."

The boy's face fell, "You don't want to keep me?"

Lussuria _really_ wanted to cuddle the little brat, "We'll see when the time comes, ok? But if you're willing, I'll be your Fairy God mother until then. You can call me God-Mama Luss."

"I'll go." The boy said quickly, "I can cook a little and I'm really good at cleaning. I've been doing the laundry, too!"

The Varia assassin did a few more Muay Thai breathing exercises, "You just grab anything you want to keep, and I'm going to look around really quick to see if there is anything I need to take with us, alright?"

The boy blinked at him, but nodded slowly, "Ok, God-Mama Luss."

Lussuria reached forwards and cuddled the brat this time.

* * *

The great thing about boring, respectable people was that they had boring, respectable hiding places for all their dirty little secrets, so it didn't take long for Lussuria to grab the documents he needed, (including a suspect parchment that was going to Mammon ASAP), and head back downstairs.

As much as he would love to waste these idiots, they were civilians and he didn't have probable cause. The boy had voluntarily agreed to come with him, which was one thing, but Lussuria was already shirting the Vindice-towed line, so he didn't want to push things.

The Vindicare was no joke, after all.

Lussuria came back downstairs and was honestly more surprised than he _should_ _have been_ to see the boy standing just outside the cupboard, as if he wasn't sure what to do next. The Varia Sun forced a smile on his face, "Ready to go?" he asked cheerily.

The boy nodded vigorously, taking Lussuria's proffered hand easily.

"Let's go, God-Mama Luss!" The boy chirped brightly, but still in a quiet enough voice to only carry to the two of them.

* * *

Mammon gave Lussuria a searching stare, the silence stretching tautly between the two Varia Officers, Lussuria's new charge sleeping peacefully on the Sun Officer's lap.

(Well, actually, Lussuria had strapped a Dispenser- a Mafia-tech device that worked sort of like an IV- that he'd loaded with a nutritional cocktail that would normally _kill_ someone to the boy, and Lussuria was using his Sun Flames to Activate the cells in the boy's body and the nutrients to catalyze the healing of the boy's body and drastically reduce the time needed to reverse the amount of impairment that the boy had suffered.

Most Suns would be able to hold this technique for ten minutes, maximum. That Lussuria had been holding it for nearly two hours while discussing the matter of his new charge with Mammon, was a testament to his skill and his ability to multitask.

That Lussuria was also keeping the boy in a deep sleep was a mark of skill, as Lussuria was a Sun through-and-through, so he had no Tranquility to 'cheat' with, and by keeping him asleep, the boy wasn't experiencing the agony his body was currently putting itself through.)

"Lussuria," Mammon said at length, "that is the 'Boy-Who-Lived' of the European Wizarding World."

"He's mine. He agreed to be my messenger boy, Mammy~!" Lussuria whined, but there was a steel there that Mammon was resigned to cooperating with, "And I won't send him back there. I don't care who put him there. He was a _Pretty Thing_ , Mammy. I won't."

Mammon, as an Esper and a member of the Varia knew about that part of Lussuria's past, and resigned herself to assisting in the cover-up of Harry Potter's disappearance.

It wasn't like the boy wouldn't be a decent investment, she reasoned, and Lussuria was one of her only friends.

(No one realized that Harry Potter was missing from 'Cookie Cutter House # 4' because Mammon was also _Varia Quality_.)

* * *

Harry had been with God-Mama Luss for almost six months and it had been the best six months of his life.

He'd fallen asleep at some point after leaving Privet Drive, and when he'd woken up it had been several days later and God-Mama Luss had been hovering over him worriedly. God-Mama Luss had then explained that he'd been asleep so that the other could heal the damage that the Dursley's had inflicted on him by not feeding him enough.

After that, Auntie Mammon had come in and explained all about the Magical World that he'd been born to, and how he'd ended up at the Dursley house.

He'd been so angry at the thought of being left like milk on a doorstep after his parents had been murdered that he'd accidentally used the lingering traces of God-Mama Luss's Sun Flames to Active his own Dying Will Flames.

Harry was a Rain Flame user, but he was also an Inverted Cloud.

After finding this out, Auntie Mammon had examined his scar and called her friend Skull, the Cloud Arcobaleno. They put their heads together with God-Mama Luss, (God-Mama Luss had kept him busy with errands and stuff when the original discussion had sputtered to a halt), and a few days later they came to the conclusion that Lily Potter had dabbled in Soul Magic, the most forbidden kind of magic. When Voldemort came that night, use a preplanned ritual to sacrifice her own soul in its purest form- the Dying Will Flames- to save Harry. Mammon theorized that Lily was a Lightning and that was why Harry's scar was in that shape, but that something _wrong_ was behind the scar.

God-Mama Luss had gotten a determined look in his eyes and Auntie Mammon had seemed _delighted_ at the thought of a challenge, so Harry and Skull had just sat back and let the two scheme.

(Skull was _awesome_! He'd taught Harry all kinds of little tricks to do with his Flames, even though Harry couldn't use them very much without passing out yet.)

At any rate, Harry having Flames made Boss Tyr accepting his presence easier, as Lussuria had a valid reason to take him from the Dursleys that way, (they lied and said he found his flames before Lussuria found him).

Since Harry was just coming up on his sixth birthday, was diligent in his studies and training, and generally didn't make a nuisance of himself, Boss Tyr generally overlooked the fact that Harry wasn't actually a part of the Varia and used him to run errands around the Castle for a few hours most weekday afternoons.

Harry, or as God-Mama Luss had dubbed him Sansone which meant Sun in Italian, scurried down the corridor towards Boss Tyr's office.

God-Mama Luss didn't like Boss Tyr, so out of loyalty Harry didn't either, but the man was fairly pleasant to him most of the time. _Of course,_ the boy thought to himself as he knocked and was bade to enter, _that could have something to do with the fact that God-Mama Luss lets him use me for all the errands to the other Officer's offices._

* * *

It took the combined efforts of Lussuria, Mammon, and Skull- not to mention some consultation with Verde- and nearly a year to do all the calculations, but they managed to finagle a way to separate the sacrificial Lightning Flames from Harry own Dying Will Flames without killing him in the process.

Actually, that part had been fairly simple, and Verde had been needed to construct a container to hold the _wrong_ part that was sandwiched between the Lightning Flames and Harry's Cloud Flames, which were always pressing back against the _wrong_ part, they had found.

That was how Harry had ended up on the floor of one of the Varia's Interrogation Rooms, with a worried Lussuria fussing over him.

"Did it work?" He rasped.

Lussuria beamed at him, "Sure did, sweetheart! The nasty part is out, and you'll have headaches for a while since your body has to readjust, not to mention the Lightning Flames didn't dissipate like we thought, they melded with your own, so you might be able to use them a little if you work hard."

Harry smiled brightly, "Love you, God-Mama Luss, Auntie Mammy, Uncle Skull." He murmured as he dozed back off to sleep.

* * *

Boss Tyr was _dead_.

 **Dead**.

Death was something that Harry had walked with companionably since his association with God-Mama Luss had begun nearly three years ago.

Harry saw it in the Infirmary, in the Interrogation chambers, sometimes even in the hallways if things escalated too quickly.

But _Boss Tyr_ …..

The man had always been untouchable. Invincible. _Sacred_.

No matter how much God-Mama Luss, (and therefore Harry), had disliked him.

So, now the Varia had no Boss and Ottabio was filling the gap while God-Mama Luss was following around the new Sword Emperor- Squalo somebody or other- and filming his battles while the new Sword Emperor secured his title by winning at least twenty-five serious sword battles in a row.

* * *

Harry stared straight at the new Boss-Xanxus- refusing to dishonor God-Mama Luss by being cowed by a _stare_.

(Harry conveniently disregarded the killer intent that was rolling off the man that could very well have its own, imposing physical form.)

The man drew his gun faster than Harry could blink, and Harry knew that he was facing a killer, a ruthless murderer who wouldn't hesitate because of his age or his rather androgynous features.

Harry titled his chin subtly and stood his ground anyways, using the tricks that Uncle Skull had taught him to keep himself from trembling as the man prowled around his desk and shoved the barrel of his gun under Harry's chin.

The boy forced a grin to curl his lips and forcibly clogged his ears to whatever he man was saying.

(He wouldn't _break_. God-Mama Luss and Auntie Mammon taught him _better than that_.)

Suddenly there was a rough grip in his hair and he was forced to look up at the other man. "You're really not going to snivel and beg me not to kill you, are you trash?" The other asked in a deep rumbling voice.

Harry's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Suddenly the man bared his teeth at him, a twisted parody of a smile that sent shivers down Harry's spine, and the next moment Harry was stumbling as the man released him carelessly. "Trash can stay, but he's your responsibility, Lussuria."

* * *

Life under Boss Xanxus really wasn't all that different than life under Boss Tyr, really.

Harry was still an errand boy, Lussuria having decided that at nine he was more valuable inside the Castle than outside, and Boss Xanxus actually kept the rest of the Varia corralled better, so Harry didn't have to dodge nearly as much as he walked through the halls.

Of course, Boss Xanxus seemed to particularly delight in throwing things _at Harry_ , so he got lots of dodging practice, but lemons, lemonade and all that.

There was just something about Boss Xanxus that made Harry stand up and take notice, though, and the more Harry interacted with the man, (usually through snarky commentary and slightly-off-to-one-side bullets), the more he could see why the rest of the Varia were willing to follow a _teenager_.

As time progressed, Harry even got a few, "Good job, trashy brat," comments and hair-ruffles from the man, and while Harry had been perfectly fine without them, perfectly fine with just God-Mama Luss, Auntie Mammon, and Uncle Skull- there was a part of him that wanted to make Xanxus proud like that more often.

* * *

Superbi Squalo- the Superbi part was his Varia name- was the new Varia Second-in-Command, and Harry actually _liked_ the man.

(Conflicting feelings about Boss Tyr aside.)

For all of Squalo's loudness and death threats, he was _damn good_ at his job- something that Ottabio definitely hadn't been- and it was a very nice change of pace, even if the Varia did experience a sharp spike in 'trash pickup' after Commander Superbi took over.

* * *

"Don't worry about them and their geniusness, darling." Lussuria soothed Harry after Bel's introduction to the Varia and his quick promotion to Officer, "I'm not necessarily a genius, either, but I'm still powerful in my own right. You be you, sweetheart, and forget the rest."

Harry gave Lussuria a tight hug and buried his face in the man's Varia jacket, his fingers curling into the back of the material as his eyes overflowed and he let out everything that he'd been bottling up, soaking up the comfort the man readily provided him. For all of Lussuria's refusal to sugar-coat things and demanding his ruthless training regimen- both mental and physical- the man was _always_ there when Harry needed him to be, a steady support in the chaos of their lives and Harry _adored_ him for it.

* * *

Harry _did not like_ the new Lightning Guardian, Leviathan.

He liked him less than he like Prince Bel, and that was saying something, since Prince Bel was almost eighteen months younger than Harry and already so much more accomplished, and entirely unafraid to rub these facts in Harry's face.

(It had nothing to do with Levi's stalkers tendencies or his proclamations that he fought only for Xanxus' approval when God-Mama Luss still wouldn't let Harry do anything outside the Castle.)

* * *

Something had happened, and now Boss Xanxus was 'indisposed'.

Commander Superbi had called Harry to the SIC office, "Look, kitty," the tired-looking blonde said, "You're not actually part of the Varia, and Mammon's illusions will only hold so long when she's not here to reinforce them. You need to decide what you're going to do now."

Harry swallowed around his suddenly heavy tongue, "Sir?"

The Commander made a frustrated noise and rested his elbows on his desk and pillowed his head in his hands, "I'm being told that if you don't show up at the school- _which I'd never heard of until a week ago, I've had to research this shit_ \- that your parents signed you up for when you're eleven, you'll never have a moments peace and you'll lose your rightful inheritance. Lussuria has been keeping you inside the Castle because that way you're not _technically_ part of the Mafia, which means you'll still be invited for formal magical schooling.

Once you're full-time Mafia, the Vindice injunction whatever-the-hell they use that identifies you as a potential or current student and they blank you from the records. It's serious shit, and Xanxus-" Commander Superbi took on a pained expression, but pushed forward quickly, "Xanxus supported you getting your rightful inheritance, even before he knew that you came from old money, because he doesn't think that some old geezer with an agenda should be able to screw you out of it."

"So," Harry said slowly, hands fisting at his side, "I can either go back and play their game or lose it all and play my own."

"Brat." Squalo's sword came down a hairs-breadth away from Harry, "Xanxus is encased in ice right now because his old man is a _lying piece of shit_. Mammon and Lussuria are fucking amazing, but they don't have access to some of the brightest minds in the magical world. _You've been trained by an Esper, and have the opportunity to go to a school headed by the guy who basically runs the magical world_. Please tell me you're not wasting your training on the thought of spending a measly _six months or so_ with those Dursley fuckers. They can't even fucking touch you, brat. Imagine Boss raining hell down on them when he wakes up, if that helps. _Fucking hell_."

Harry suddenly felt like an _idiot_.

"I'll go, sir."

* * *

**Parinya Charoenphol aka Nong Tum is an actual Muay Thai Champion. She is also a model and actress.

The colloquial term for her is _kathoey_ , which from my research is what a transgender woman or an effeminate gay man is called in Thailand. From what I've found the translation is usually 'ladyboy' or 'lady boy' in English. I've altered her age to fit the story, but she's Lussuria's role model and plays a part of his development, and no offense is meant by these alterations.

* * *

 _ **Please leave a review on your way out!**_

This was a bit different for me, so I kind of want to know what you guys think.


	2. This Time For Sure (KHR-HP)

**This Time For Sure**

or

 **Death is an Interfering Jerk**

Someone asked about adopting ideas in this collection, and while I might continue them at some point, my answer is: sure!

I've certainly pulled enough inspiration from fellow authors from over the years, and if you take the original text, for the love of everything good and holy at least fix the errors I missed when I edited things originally!

(Also, send me a message so I can read it!)

* * *

Harry Potter closed his eyes and exhaled quietly through his nose.

 _It's all come to this, huh?_

Harry was standing at the edge of the Hogwarts Wards, enjoying the sense of home that Hogwarts had always seemed to exude for him. It had been nearly twenty-five years since the end of the Second Blood War, but more importantly for Harry it had been nearly twenty-five years since he had taken on the title of the Master of Death.

Death was actually an alright sort of Being, genderless and ageless, compassionate and unyielding but above all Death enjoyed balance- for without Death there is no Rebirth.

Harry had raged about that new title for a while at Number Twelve after the cleanup efforts from the Battle of Hogwarts were well underway. He'd then dusted himself off and joined Kingsley's Ministry- throwing himself into helping with the Tribunals, then with revising numerous pieces of legislation, and generally trying to get on with his life.

Ginny had been brilliant at helping him recover, but their romantic relationship had fizzled out. She had been instrumental during the months immediately after the War- she'd been there through the nightmares and the panic attacks and everything- so it had been a heartbreaking day when they had looked at each other over the breakfast table and realized that they _loved_ but were not _in love_. Ginny, bless her, had soldiered on with the same determination that she'd once used against the spirit of Tom Riddle, being there with him even when he tried to push her away in a vain attempt to spare her more heartache.

It had barely been a decade since the end of the War when the next calamity struck.

Well, they shot themselves in the foot, to be honest.

Muggle technology had never worked around magic, and the _Obliviate_ spell was an encompassing sort of charm taking care of memories, triggers, and circumstantial evidence- so they had assigned a few people to the 'Muggle Technology Erasure Committee' and moved on with more important things, safe in the knowledge that they were still keeping their world safe.

All it had taken was a series of accidental magics from several muggleborns that were recorded by smartphone and posted on the Internet for everything to spiral out of control.

Things had spiraled quickly, the ICW almost powerless in the face of the Internet's far-reaching audiences, too many people, too many sites, not enough wands- and then special interest groups and governments were putting pieces together that they wouldn't have otherwise, for the mind is a tricky thing and once you know that it has or could be tampered with the innate sense of self within a person reaches through the mists and tears through the delicate, foreign entity lurking in the shadows.

People started remembering things- from Grindelwald, from Voldemort, the Death Eaters, the Order, the Ministry.

The Witch Hunts were restarted, there was panic, some people were kind, but the ones who wanted all magicals dead, dying, or collared far outweighed them, and everything burned in fire from all sides.

So many lives lost- too many. Children, mostly. Innocents and those who were simply suspected of being magicals but weren't as the whole world turned against itself.

So, now Harry stood at the edge of the Hogwarts Wards for the last time, the letter that he'd left for Hermione- truly the brightest witch of her generation- safely ensconced at Gringotts Bank, as he drew one last breath of home before calling out gently, "Death?"

The being phased into existence, tall and slender with pale skin, a cowl that overshadowed their face and a rather expensive suit, "Yes, Master?" the Being rasped.

Harry smiled at his companion and reached out his hand towards the being, "I'm ready."

Death reached out and clasped his Master's hand, "Goodbye, Master."

Harry smiled brighter as he thought about what he was doing, giving up his power and his title to reverse the clock to give Hermione and the others enough time to prepare for the impact that the rapid progression of technology would bring. He'd left her detailed notes, some in her own hand, and he just knew that she would make this sacrifice worth the cost. "Goodbye Death." Harry murmured as the touch of Death reached his core and his world turned white.

Death stared at the soul of their Master as the world faded to grey and Time bowed to Death's call. Harry Potter had vexed Death from that moment where Lily Potter had assisted in the rebounding of the killing curse cast by Tom Riddle.

However…

Harry had also given _so much_ to everyone around him, even when he felt hollow and lonely as everyone else moved on and had families, and then the _foolish boy_ had placed himself at the frontlines of another war because Harry believed that he had nothing to lose, nothing to fear.

Death had watched the young man be truly selfishly selfless and began to feel somewhat fond of the young man who was so incredibly humble despite the power at his disposal.

Death pursed their lips under the shadow of their Cowl, as they gently turned their Master's soul around in their hands.

What to do?

 _Ah_.

That was an idea.

Just as the moment of insertion arrived, Death decided to add their own creative flare to the process.

Death flicked their hand and Master's soul flared brightly for a moment before bursting into a thousand shards of color as the world came back into focus and the wailing started. Master had chosen the moment of Tom Riddle's final defeat to return to, to try and give that Granger woman all the time he possibly could to save the magical world from discovery and destruction.

Death hummed as they faded back into their Realm, realizing that they might have made a tiny miscalculation and they weren't going to answer Master's calls until the brat was at least ten.

Ten was a mature age for humans, right?

* * *

Harry was going to find a way to _kill_ Death.

Blinking sleepily, (in his new, easily tired, unfamiliar, newborn-baby body), Harry took in the blurry colors all around him. He wasn't sure how long he'd been here in this new world, but he recognized the language being spoken around him as being Asian in origin.

Harry was fluent in English, French, Italian, Spanish, German, Russian, and some Dutch- but he'd never had a reason to learn one of the outlying languages. So, the poor reincarnated man had no idea what name he now bore, where he was, or when he was- he did, however, have a sinking suspicion that he was no longer a _he_.

His birth was a moment that he was more than happy to forget, but the warmth of the woman who had held him had been amazing. His father had come a few days later, and there was a child who snuck into the nursery at night and ran gentle, chubby fingers through his hair until someone would come in and shoo the other out of the room.

Harry kind of hoped that he had a sibling.

* * *

Time plodded forward and everyday his vision got clearer and his fully developed mind began to understand what was being said. Finally one day he woke up from one of his naps and the world was clear for the first time, he noted the traditional Japanese room that he was in, all splashes of vibrant color against warm wood.

Harry gurgled and cooed and reached for the black-haired boy who had been leaning over him with chubby, uncoordinated fingers. Harry tried his best to make happy sounds, but there was a lot of spitting and squeaks, mostly.

"Imouto?" the boy asked curiously, grabbing a nearby cloth and cleaning up the mess that Harry was making before checking the area and slipping into the crib with Harry. The boy had grey eyes, Harry realized, and classic Asian features- black hair, lithe build- but the boy was gentle as he lay beside Harry and let the baby grab at his fingers.

"Kyouya?" Harry's new mother's voice called, and the door slid open before the boy could even think to escape from the crib. "Are you in here again?"

The boy-Kyouya, apparently- looked guilty but cuddled stubbornly closer to Harry as the woman came further in the room.

The woman gave a loving sigh and came closer to sit on the chair near the crib, "You two." She said fondly, "Are going to be inseparable at this rate."

"She's my baby sister." Kyouya pouted at his mother.

The woman's smile stretched wider, even as Harry mentally lamented his loss of masculinity as he, (she), wiggled closer to her _brother_. "Aa, that is true. She's the first Hibari princess to be born in over a hundred and fifty years. You must grow strong so that you can keep away all the useless herbivores who will wish to crowd her."

Kyouya nodded solemnly and Harry kind of wondered what kind of princess they thought he was going to be- definitely not the stay-in-the-tower kind.

"She will, of course, know how to defend herself." Said a male voice from the doorway, and Harry figured that this must be his father because he looked like Kyouya's clone. "However, just because she can defend herself, doesn't mean that she should _have to do so_ , not with her brother by her side."

Kyouya nodded seriously, "I will bite all the crowding herbivores to death."

The woman grinned sharply and the man smirked and Harry just _knew_ he was going to be sick of that phrase.

* * *

 _Age Four_

" _Hibari Miyako, get back here this instant!_ "

Miyako- who had gotten used to be called such over the past four years- giggled quietly as she made her way down the hallway, making sure to put all of her mother's stealth training to good use as she evaded the exasperated kitchen staff, having once again snuck in to grab herself a snack when she wasn't supposed to have apples before dinner.

(Apparently, the staff were under the impression that the things made her hyper.)

She skidded around the corner and nearly ran into the person on the other side. "Kyouya-nii!" she said happily, taking a bite out of her apple with a rather satisfying crunch.

Kyouya quirked an eyebrow at her, arms crossed over his chest, before his gaze flicked towards her snack, "Hn. Why aren't you practicing your Kata, small animal?"

Miyako grinned cheekily as she finished off her apple with a flourish, "Finished for the day!"

Kyouya grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the dojo gently prying the fruit remains from his little sister and handing it off to one of the staff, "There is no such thing as finished, small animal. We need to work off that apple or you'll be insufferable all evening."

"But Kyouya-" Miyako started to whine, tugging at her brother's hand in protest.

"Kyouya, Miyako."

The deep male voice stopped both children in their tracks and they bowed hurriedly, "Father." They both greeted the Hibari Clan Head respectfully.

"Hn. If you have the energy to terrorize the kitchen staff, you have the energy to train, Miyako. A Hibari princess does not get caught _stealing apples._ "

Miyako's lips twitched slightly, it had taken a while to reconcile her identity, but she had decided to enjoy the gift that Death had given her as she was sure that something would happen _eventually_ to disrupt her somewhat peaceful life, so she was enjoying the peace while it lasted. However, she was sure that her father wasn't a firm believer in the law from some of the things that he said from time to time- like now. "I'm sorry, Father. One of the cooks came in unexpectedly. They don't leave apples in the baskets any longer."

Father's lips quirked up on one side, but he did not smile, "Then we must teach you to evade. Come, both of you."

* * *

Miyako clung to her mother, desperate to _not go_ into the Kindergarten building that they were standing in front of _\- she was not crying, she was a Hibari_ \- but she was fairly certain that Yun's shirt would tear if the woman kept trying to shoo her forward.

"Come, now, Miyako-chan, Kyouya is already inside."

"Kyouya-nii is in First Grade, Mamma."

Her mother sighed in exasperation, "You know that he'll find excuses to come check on you, Miyako-chan. Now stop clinging and act like a proper Hibari."

"Yes, Mama." Miyako grumbled as she detached herself from her mother's shirt.

* * *

 _ **Please leave a review on your way out!**_

This is incomplete-ish, I know. A drabble.


	3. Threads of Fate (KHR-HP)

**Threads of Fate**

* * *

 **Summary** : Lily's grandparents weren't exactly _boring,_ and when Lily goes to have a child of her own, that legacy interferes, leading her to the Slums of Italy and her Grandfather's niece in a desperate gamble to craft her own 'happily ever after'. However, when her Obliviate is stripped away by the Zero Point Breakthrough, Xanxus will have to decide what to do with the memory of a flame-haired woman with a magic stick and the possibility of a sibling.

* * *

Cokeworth was a town full of blue-collared folk. Most were hard-working, middle-classed families who were just doing their best to provide for their own, and living a life far beyond what their parents had hoped to achieve despite it not being overly glamourous.

Jasmine Evans cooed at her newborn daughter, Petunia, as she thought about her life thus far and how everything had led to her sitting here in this cozy nursery rocking her newborn baby girl with her husband sleeping in the next room.

Marigold 'Merry' Wright had been a flame-haired she-devil to her enemies, and a beacon of loving kindness to her allies. The strong-willed half-Irish girl had run away from home at thirteen, (in 1928) and had lied, cheated, and stole her way into Medical Corps, eventually becoming a nurse, and a damn good one at that. Merry had worked her way up the ranks quickly, and had proven herself to be extremely competent under fire, which had gotten the young woman sent on increasingly dangerous missions all over Eastern-Central Europe, especially as the Second World War really kicked into high gear.

Merry had met Jasmine's father when she had been working in Italy, trying to help the people who were suffering under the cruel thumb of Benito Mussolini, and they had planned to live their 'happily ever after' once the war was over, with Jasmine herself having been born in 1936. Unfortunately, Jasmine's father had been killed during the civil unrest following Mussolini's deposition, leaving Merry and Jasmine to return to England alone.

There were enough war widows for them not to overly stand out, and Merry's skills as a nurse ensured that they were able to be fairly comfortable all things considered. However, just after Jasmine's sixteenth birthday Merry's health began to fail drastically, and by the time Jasmine turned seventeen her brilliant, fiery, headstrong mother had passed on to be with her barely-remembered father.

Jasmine had suddenly been all alone without her mother to ground her, and she'd been _terrified out of her mind_. She'd never been her mother's brand of fearless, and while Merry had been supportive and had adored her daughter anyways, Jasmine had always been terrified of the day when her mother would no longer be around to guide her.

She'd drifted around for a while using all the skills her mother had taught her –knitting, sewing, housekeeping- to survive before she eventually ended up as a waitress in the Midlands, which is where she'd met Harry Evans.

Harry Evans had been fourteen when the Allied Forces had stormed the beaches of Normandy and had lost most of his family fighting against the Axis Powers. When the Second World War had officially ended he had been too young to receive the accolades of a soldier and too old to receive the benefits of a child, stuck in the 'too bad you're on your own' class that many of his age group, who had _fought_ but hadn't _served_ were stuck inside.

However, Harry was an Evans through-and-through- from his dirty blonde hair to his blue eyes to his stubborn chin and broad shoulders- and he'd buckled down and worked his ass off to carve out his own life with his own two hands, leaving little time for anything other than his jobs or his projects. He'd been nearly twenty-six when he'd met the almost nineteen-year-old, and Harry and Jasmine had been almost instantly smitten with each other. It had taken all of two months for them to be married and barely a year after they had met; they were welcoming little Petunia home.

Jasmine smiled as she heard Harry shuffle in the room, "Was she being fussy again?" he asked in in a sleep-roughed voice.

She smiled and shook her head slightly, "She was just being a baby, Harry."

Her husband hummed and wrapped his arms around them both, and Jasmine took another moment to be grateful that her life had led her here, despite all the bumps she'd faced along the way.

* * *

Lily Evans-Potter clutched the piece of parchment tighter and followed the instructions her spell had provided.

 _This had to work._

The nineteen-year-old had been married for nearly seven months, and while everything was wonderful, she wanted a baby.

Unfortunately, she had discovered that something was actively preventing her eggs from transitioning from the pre-pregnancy to pregnancy stages.

And it _wasn't magic_ that was interfering, which meant that it was something that she hadn't heard of before. Considering that her sister was pretty much her father's clone and was currently pregnant, Lily took a leap of faith and wondered if it had something to do with mother's father's family- as Lily took after her Grandmother quite strongly, so it would make sense if she also took after her Grandfather as well- which was why she was currently in the slums of Italy.

 _This had to work_.

* * *

One of the things about the Zero Point Breakthrough that went generally overlooked was the impact it had on the mind.

Specifically the fact that freezing a person's Flames and rendering them inert also stripped them of any mental defenses, leaving them entirely at the mercy of their unrestrained, unlimited mind with absolutely no way to guard themselves.

It also had the side-effect of removing any spells that had previously been impairing a person's mind.

* * *

 _A young Xanxus looked at the fiery-haired woman who was pointing a stick at his unmoving Ma, "What are you doin' to Ma, trash?" he snarled._

 _The woman looked startled and turned to look at him, "O-oh, hi there." She waved the stick and suddenly Xanxus couldn't move, "What the fuck?!"_

 _The woman smiled apologetically, "I'm not hurting her!" She babbled to him, "I just need to borrow one of her eggs- the things that women make babies out of- so that my husband and I can have a baby of our own."_

 _Xanxus stopped struggling for a second, "Wouldn't that make them my brother or sister or some shit?" he asked confusedly._

 _The woman smiled, "This is your Mum then?" Xanxus nodded, "Then yes, I'll use my magic- what I'm using my stick for- to do some special things, but your Mum will still be a part of my baby, so technically they'll be your little half-brother or half-sister. You won't remember any of this, of course, but explaining it to you makes me feel better."_

 _Xanxus began to struggle again and the woman smiled sadly at him, "I'm sorry, kiddo. If it helps, I'm Lily Evans-Potter and your Mum is technically my Grandfather's niece, which is why I needed her eggs specifically. My Mum was Jasmine Evans, her father was an Italian Resistance soldier and her mum was a nurse from England, but anyways- sorry kiddo. Obliviate."_

* * *

 _ **Please leave a review on your way out!**_


	4. Sword's Edge (KHR-HP)

Updated 9/11/15

Inspired by How Harry became Squalo by **BlackFaithMasquerade**

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 **Sword's Edge**

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 **Summary** : After Second Year Harry accidentally summons the Sword of Gryffindor during Uncle Vernon's 'Welcome Home' rant.

This unintentional feat sets forth a chain of events that will change his life forever!

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Harry Potter stared glumly out of the window of his compartment on the Hogwarts Express and tried to keep a tight rein on his emotions as the train steadily made its way towards London, and Harry's summer _prison_.

Second Year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry hadn't been any better than First Year, actually in many ways it had been worse- and First Year had featured a possessed teacher hosting the essence of his parent's murderer!

When Hagrid had first appeared on that dismal Hut-on-a-Rock with his stories of magic and his parents being heroes, Harry had been _enthralled_. Harry had been sure that he'd be able to step into this, wonderful new world and be himself for once- for surely fellow freaks would be far more accepting than the 'nice, normal folk' that he'd been surrounded by up until then, right?

It had taken Harry about thirty minutes into his first trip into Diagon Alley to shatter that dream, and now he knew with personal, bitter certainty that the magical world only saw what they wanted, when they wanted- they were _just people_. People with incredible power at their disposal, but just people in the end.

Just like back in Little Whinging with the Dursleys and the neighbors and the Primary teachers who'd never asked questions.

Harry rotated his left arm stiffly, trying to loosen the muscles before they cramped up on him _again_.

The Boy-Who-Lived snorted derisively, _I got dragged down to that stupid Chamber and fought a Basilisk, saving Ginny and facing another incarnation of Voldemort in the process, and the Headmaster was more concerned with getting the story out of me than making sure that I wasn't about to die. Sure Fawkes cried on me- but I'm a twelve-year-old who took the fang of one of the world's deadliest snakes through my arm- but you'd think that I would have gotten medical attention before being interrogated. And I was a suspect, right up until he was absolutely certain that I'd told him everything and that stupidly itchy feeling in my head went away._

Harry was far from stupid, but he'd learned early that showing all your cards wasn't a smart move, it was why he'd begged the Hat to put him in Gryffindor, even though he probably could have thrived in Slytherin- you know, if he wasn't who he was, anyways.

The boy sighed in frustration, grateful that his compartment was empty with Hermione having run off with the other formerly-petrified students to try and catch up on all the work they missed, and Ron having gone home with his family just after the Chamber Incident.

Harry loved Ron and Hermione, he really did, but after the way they'd both treated him this year after they found out that he was a Parselmouth, he didn't think he'd ever be able to truly trust them again. He knew that they were just kids- like he was- but he'd observed 'pack mentality' and 'peer pressure' at work took many times to be blindly naïve. They could be friends, and he'd never forget what they'd gone through up until this point, but they'd never be his 'best friends' again.

No, Harry was on his own if he was going to find a way out of these chains that were binding him, both in the magical world and the nonmagical one.

The train came to a stop and Harry heaved another sigh as he mechanically began to pull his trunk down, grateful that he'd let Hedwig out already.

Oh well, at least he'd have plenty of time to think about things this summer.

―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―

Harry stared dispassionately at his Uncle Vernon as the man rounded on him not five steps after the door had been closed behind

The walrus-like man's face reddened and he opened his mouth, verbal abuse spilling forth as he began to rant about 'freakishness' and 'layabouts' and 'wastrels' in his usual dulcet tones, Aunt Petunia sniffing disdainfully as her kitten heels clacked smartly against the wooden floor on Number Four's entryway as she made her way back towards the kitchen.

Harry just stood there for a moment, the roar of his emotions nearly overwhelming him and filling his ears with white noise, as he idly wished for the Sword of Gryffindor which was about the only _useful tool_ he'd encountered in his sojourn into the magical world.

There was a brief flare of warmth, almost like _fire_ -

Then the Sword of Gryffindor was in his hand, ruby hilt glittering and seemingly re-sized for his ease of use.

Uncle Vernon opened his mouth wider-

"You know." Harry found himself conversationally. "I used this sword to kill a snake longer than our street at school this year. The venom is so toxic it can eat through stone."

The man before him paled rapidly.

Harry smiled brightly and all but purred the next part, "But you see, the greatest part about this Sword is that it comes from my Ancestor's Line, and anyone who is unworthy that touches it- like you, for example- will die in _incomprehensible agony_." The boy walked forward, absently bringing the sword up in front of him, "It also cannot be taken away from me, as I can call it to me through _my very blood_. So you see Uncle Vernon, I think things are going to go a bit _differently_ this summer."

The boy was right beside the man now, "I am not you. I am not needlessly cruel. Stay out of my way, and I will stay out of yours." Harry turned and _willed_ his sword to use the venom of the Basilisk as he laid the edge of the blade against the doorframe to the Living Room, the blade sliding through the thick wood effortlessly, despite the boy not really putting any pressure behind it. "A warning." He said cheerfully, as he held the sword in one hand and grabbed his trunk with the other and made his way up the stairs.

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Harry sat with his back to his bedroom wall.

 _What the fuck was that?_ He thought dazedly as he stared at the Sword of Gryffindor, which was lying innocently in his lap. Harry knew that what he'd said about the unworthy touching the sword dying in agony part was true, but he also knew that it was partially because he'd willed that to happen, and he'd subconsciously defined the parameters of 'unworthy'.

The sword didn't feel sentient, like it was trying to talk to him or take over his thoughts, but there was something about it that wasn't entirely inert either.

Well, after the Diary crap this past year, he'd be extra careful, but it would definitely help keep the Dursleys from being their normal charming selves, and as far as he knew they couldn't contact the magical world, which was even better, as then no one could come and take his new protective blanket away from him.

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Over the past week Harry had learned a lot of cool things.

His sword could become a bracelet if he concentrated hard enough, _which was awesome_. It could also become several different lengths- from a dagger up to a two-handed broadsword, and it was always perfectly balanced.

Even more awesome was the golden-ish fire that seemed to appear whenever his sword switched forms, and when Harry did it in front of the Dursleys they seemed to become disoriented, as if someone had hit them with a _Confundus Charm_ or something.

They didn't even mention the fire, it was like they couldn't see it or something.

Better yet, none of his experimentation had netted him another warning from the Ministry of Magic, which meant that he was able to keep his things, eat, _and_ not be locked in his room like a prisoner.

Admittedly, he did have to sleep with one eye open, and he'd had to melt one of the Dursley kitchen chairs last night to reinforce the whole, 'my sword had deadly venon inside it' lesson- there was now a hole in the floor, as a matter of fact- but otherwise he'd had a pretty peaceful summer thus far.

None of his friends had written more than a short note, Ron was getting ready for a trip to Egypt, apparently, and Hermione was going to France and catching up on schoolwork, but that was alright, he'd be fine.

He'd already known that he was on his own anyways.

Maybe the library would have some books on swordsmanship?

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Superbi Squalo cursed Vongola Nono to the depths of the Vindicare and back _at least twice_ in every language he was even vaguely fluent in as he made his way through this shitty middle class suburbia hell.

Since Xanxus had been put on ice nearly eighteen months ago, the Vongola Boss had been _extra certain_ to keep the Varia busy. The shitty old fart couldn't afford to get rid of them, but he sure as hell couldn't afford to let them regroup and mount another assault, either.

Because the only thing the upper echelon of the Varia, (Ottabio didn't fucking count in Squalo's mind- when Xanxus came back, the rat bastard would get his), had to lose _was_ Xanxus, Vongola Nono made sure to drive home the fact that even the _rumor_ of misdeeds by the remaining would get the frozen Varia Boss permanently eliminated, and a new Boss for the Varia would be actively sought.

That was unacceptable to the loyal Varia Elite, which is why they grit their teeth and took on bullshit missions like _this one_.

 _It's for Boss._ Squalo told himself as he upped the amount of Tranquility he was pumping into the air as he wove through the backyards of the houses in pursuit of his target. _All of this shit is for Boss._

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Squalo's target had been an _idiot_ , his security had been _insulting_ , and Nono should be strung up by his _stupid fucking mustache for wasting Varia Quality on this stupid fucking mission_ , Squalo decided as he ghosted over fences and through yards, making his way back towards a main intersection to blend back in to the nightlife crowds.

Varia Quality meant not taking stupid risks, even on easy missions.

Squalo almost tripped over his own two feet when he saw a brat practicing with a _real sword_ in a backyard.

The Sword Emperor part of Squalo itched to _commit murder_ for seeing a block executed from a stance that shitty, not to mention everything else that was wrong with the boy.

The Varia Assassin in him immediately began filing away all the other bits: the boy's stature, the fact that he was out this late practicing with a live weapon without proper supervision or training, the lack of rebellious indicators- this kid was training for _survival,_ the clothes he was wearing, the look in his eyes, and not to mention the sword itself- obviously an heirloom, and the boy's, not whomever lived in the house, because just at a glance Squalo could tell that the sword was made well enough to buy the whole damn town and then some, even as a trophy piece.

Then the brat heard a noise from inside the house, flinched like he expected to be hit, and _fuck Squalo's life_ the sword became a bracelet.

Definitely a solid Sun Flame user, but there were Mist Flames or Cloud Flames- or maybe both- there as well, and almost as strong. Obviously the kid was civilian born, as he obviously didn't realize the full extent of his abilities as the brat slunk back into the house and out of sight.

Squalo made a note of the address and hurried on- he needed to find a hotel and do some digging.

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The Commander of the Varia sighed as Mammon corroborated his findings.

Number Four Privet Drive was the home to a magical by the name of Harry Potter, who was a giant ball of _clusterfucked information_.

Neighbors, teachers, the magicals that Mammon went all Esper on- all of them had conflicting stories and opsions of the boy.

However, Mammon had been close by, and had spent a day observing the boy and had agreed with Squalo's assessment.

Squalo was a firm believer in trusting his gut, and his gut told him that this kid would be a damn good investment, and Mammon agreed that the kid's potential was practically limitless if someone would just take the time to help him.

The Esper had also advised blunt honesty, "This child has lived his entire life- or what he can remember of it- on one crumbling lie or another, much like Boss. Be blunt, be honest, and I think the Varia will be better for it, Commander."

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Harry stared at the man with the shoulder-length white hair and slowly went over what he'd been told in the privacy of his mind.

The man was Squalo Superbi, Sword Emperor and the Commander of the Varia, the Vongola Famiglia's Independent Assassination Squad. The fire Harry had been playing with were actually the Dying Will Flames and were a trademark of the Mafia like magic was to the magical world. Squalo was willing to take Harry to Italy and teach him for the summer, (and possibly more, they'd have to play it by ear), if Harry agreed to work with the Varia's WEATHER Squad after he graduated for at least two years, or if Harry could conclusively contribute to freeing their Boss.

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about being an assassin, but he had killed Quirrell at the end of First Year, and then the Basilisk this year and _Ginny_ nearly died, and everyone seemed to just _expect him_ to be able to handle that sort of thing, so maybe it would be better to actually be trained how to handle crap like that?

The man said that the Varia had a seven-language requirement, but as Harry would be Squalo's 'side project' they would let that slide, but the boy would have to work his ass off because Squalo demanded nothing less than perfection.

Harry would be returned to Privet Drive the twenty-fourth of August, seeing as it was just now the third week of June, that gave Squalo nearly ten weeks to train Harry. The British Trace did not extend to _Italia_ as the Ministries did not share information so easily, so the members of the WEATHER Squad- the Varia's super-secret magical faction that was only known to the Boss, or Commander in Squalo's case- would be tutoring the teen in Varia-flavored magical combat, while other members would be keeping the rest of the Harry's education.

"Not going to lie kid, it's going to be the shittiest ten weeks of your life, but if you survive, you just might live to see adulthood." Squalo had said before lapsing into silence.

Really, there were only a couple of questions that were important to Harry, "Where is somewhere safe I can keep Hedwig, and how can I do this without the Headmaster finding out? He was pretty insistent that I stay here."

Squalo grinned, it was sword-shard and predatory, "You just leave that to me, lion cub. Lussuria will adore that fucking owl."

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"Shittiest ten weeks of my life _my ass_." Harry laughed to himself as he walked back through door to Number Four nearly ten weeks later.

It hadn't been the ten shittiest weeks of his life- it had been _worse_.

 _Especially at the beginning_.

Lussuria, the Varia Sun and resident mother-hen, had nearly come _unglued_ when he'd run the original diagnostics on Harry. Between the abuse his body had undergone in his early years, followed by First Year's Hogwarts meals before a summer of starving, then the Basilisk incident, the Varia Sun had been _fit to be tied_.

Or commit mass homicide- with Lussuria it was difficult to tell sometimes.

Harry had actually been undergoing treatment until a week ago to entirely stabilize his bloodwork and his soul. A Phoenix didn't just affect the physical plane, so Phoenix Tears didn't just heal a person's body they went even deeper, which is why they were so valuable and why a Phoenix Song could uplift a spirit even though it wasn't a tangible medicine.

Meaning that Fawkes' Tears had been Overhealing Harry to the point that it had been poisoning him, eventually it would have evened out, but he likely would have gone through some serious mood swings and walked that wretched line between well and unwell for so long that his body would have been permanently, significantly damaged, meaning that he never would have been able to properly utilize his Flames.

Harry's Primary Flame type was actually Cloud, but his Sun flame Secondary had been eating away at the Tears, trying to stabilize him, and that had caused his Sun flame capacity to rapidly expand, so now he was just as much a Sun as he was a Cloud, with just a hint of Mist in between.

Lussuria had also wrangled Squalo into pouring Rain Flames into Harry's Scar until the thing had bloated to the point of bursting, and then had Prince Belphegor attack the foreign entity behind the Sowlio Rune with Storm Flames until a blackish tar came out. Harry had passed out long before then, but Lussuria said that it was much easier to stabilize him after that.

Lussuria was also the one who taught Harry basic hand-to-hand combat, monitored his meals, went through his clothes and threw out most of them before replacing them, and generally mothered him. Harry enjoyed Lussuria's brand of mothering though, and he wondered what his own mother would think about him preferring an effeminate male assassin as a mother-ish figure over a woman like Mrs. Weasley.

Commander Superbi- that was what Harry had called the man when he'd been training him- had given the boy a feral grin when he'd heard that bit of information about Harry bein a Cloud Flame user, and it hadn't made Harry feel safe- _at all_. Harry's meager instincts had been correct, of course, Commander Superbi had been nothing less than _relentlessly ruthless_ in his training methods, and while Harry wouldn't be able to hold a handle to the Sword Emperor any time soon, there were a number of grunts that he could spar with nowadays without getting his ass handed to him too badly.

Prince Belphegor was actually just a bit younger than Harry and Harry had enjoyed the boy's company when he'd just been 'Prince Bel' and not 'Prince the Ripper'. Prince Bel, for all his haughtiness, was actually a brilliant teacher, and Harry had learned that there was a huge difference between _being taught_ and _being talked at_. 'Prince the Ripper' was bloodthirsty, brilliant, and inescapable, forcing Harry into Lussuria's infirmary more due to traps and set ups, but the lessons that the Prince was illustrating always stuck with Harry after an experience like that, so Harry supposed he could see the method, but he still liked his _friend_ better than his _teacher_!

Mammon was the final member of the Varia Elite that Harry had interacted with, and the Esper had been _chilling_ in his ability to lay all of Harry's deepest thoughts out in front of him like it was _nothing_. It took all of one session for Harry to apply himself to learning Mammon's style of Mind Defense with all of his being; he _never_ wanted to experience such a thing ever again! As time went on, Harry found Mammon to be funny, if expensive, company and the teen had truly come to appreciate the Esper's point of view on things.

He'd never learned the names of his WEATHER Squad trainers, but they'd been just as brutally ruthless as the Varia Elite. Surprisingly they hadn't taught him any super-cool new spells, instead they had taught him how to use every single spell he'd learned in his First and Second Year to either incapacitate or kill a target.

Harry still wasn't entirely on board with this whole 'assassination' thing, but he'd had to kill a prisoner, and Lussuria had been there with him the whole night afterwards, and the next day no one had batted an eye at his red eyes or stuffy nose, Squalo had just handed him a tissue and told him to run his damn laps.

The world hadn't ended, and they hadn't kicked him out for having feelings about it either.

It had been….nice. To be able to be human, even in a castle full of badass assassins.

It was why Harry had left his Invisibility Cloak- which he'd kept a secret, as Mammon hadn't told on him- with Squalo before he'd gotten on the plane to come back to England.

Melting the ice that Xanxus was encased in wasn't the issue for the Varia, it was getting inside where he was being held and going unnoticed long enough _to_ melt it that was an issue. Harry's Cloak would solve that issue for the Varia, and Mammon had sworn on his fortune that it would be returned to Harry safely once they'd gotten Boss free.

Harry trusted his assassins more than he trusted anyone else in the world, at the moment, and he'd known them all of ten weeks, how sad was that?

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Harry had been back at Number Four all of a day when he'd gotten his Cloak returned to him in a whirl of Mist Flames with a single-line note that simply said 'Success', not long after he'd received an invitation from the Weasleys and Hermione to meet them at the Leaky Caldron so they could all shop for their school supplies together.

(Hedwig was still wearing the cute harness that Lussuria had made for her, and he was pretty sure one of the WEATHER Squad members had added enchantments to it. One of the underlings had tried to mess with the Snowy Owl _once_ and had had the permanent fear of the Varia Sun Officer put into them. Everyone else had wisely stayed clear of her.)

The young Potter laughed a little and wondered at the disconnected feeling he was experiencing.

His summer had been spent learning to fight with his sword or his body and how to fire a variety of guns. He'd learned Italian thoroughly, and had a pretty strong grasp on the basics of French and Spanish. He'd gotten caught up on his nonmagical education and beyond, (because Prince Bel didn't do anything by _half_ ), and learned more about etiquette than he'd ever known existed. He was almost eight inches taller, he didn't _need_ to wear glasses but wore some that Mammon had worker his Esper-Mist mojo on, and had deliberately killed a man because Commander Superbi- _a man not even old enough to legally use magic outside of Hogwarts_ \- told him to.

What was he supposed to talk about to these people?

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Harry wasn't sure if he should be happy with how easy it was to slide back into his magical world persona or if he should feel frustrated that no one bothered to notice that he'd changed.

On one hand, being able to flawlessly blend in to your environment was a sign of Quality, on the other, Harry was still _far_ from Quality and these were supposed to be his 'best friends'.

It was bizarre.

Then there was everyone's obsessive need to keep track of him every second of the day, Harry honestly thought that he was going to go _mad_ and have to go back to Privet Drive just to get some privacy.

He really needed to talk to the Goblins, too.

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It took some doing, but Gringotts s open twenty-four hours a day.

(Harry had made sure to take his sword off before he went, no need to tempt a war.)

A half hour later, and a grinning Harry was exiting the Bank with a hefty amount of pounds.

He couldn't do much with the Potter accounts until his majority- Mammon had told him and the goblins had confirmed- that old estates like the Potters set up Trust Vaults for the Heirs, and in the event something happened to the Lord, the Trust Vault had to last the Heir until the Family Vault opened for them when their core matured and they could use the Family Magics, which is how the Vaults were sealed.

Granted, a Guardian _could_ draft funds from the Family Vault for upkeep and whatnot, but Harry didn't have a recognized Financial Magical Guardian, which was highly irregular as that meant that he had the default of the Headmaster as his Magical Guardian. This was odd because if his parents had named Albus Dumbledore as his Guardian, then he'd be the Financial Guardian as well, but the magic hadn't accepted him which might explain why he'd had the trust Vault key but why the Vault hadn't been opened prior to Harry visiting in July of 1991, the key would have been invalid had Harry not been physically present since the Vault was 'new' and the key wasn't with the proper authority.

So, somewhere between his parents death and his placement at the Dursleys something had happened that didn't comply with the wishes written in his parent's Will, as only that level of conflict would divide the Guardian Magics like Harry's had been. Gringotts executed Wills, but if a Will was sealed by the Ministry then Gringotts' hands were tied, so both Harry and the Goblins had to wait to see what the Will said, as the Will had been sealed by the Chief Warlock himself, according to the records.

As annoying as all of that had been to find out, Mammon wasn't a monetary genius without due cause, so Harry had the Goblins put a discreet fine on 'The Boy Who Lived' crap, the phrase included, and had them back-date it to one of the days when Lockhart had been particularly annoying about 'helping you manage your fame, Harry!' and had kept Harry in detention, helping the fop answer his fanmail.

While Gringotts was an honest bank, they had _absolutely zero issue_ with screwing over wizards if no rules were truly _broken_ , so seeing as how a Goblin runner went out and got Lockhart's signature, everything was technically above board, even if the rules had been creatively interpreted.

The fines were small enough to begin with, that most people wouldn't notice, and by the time they did notice it would be too late to change the rule and Lockhart wasn't in any position to Request Recinsion, so they would be blaming the blonde idiot while Harry, (and the Goblins, who were getting thirty-five percent), would be reaping the rewards.

Harry knew he should probably feel bad, but- as Mammon had pointed out and Squalo had reinforced- people had been profiting from his family's tragedy for _a decade_ , it wasn't like he was robbing the poor, and Lockhart wasn't an innocent, he'd stolen real people's accomplishments and their memories of them, and then turned around and passed them off as his own work and profited from it.

So, there was a little guilt, but not an overwhelming amount.

It was still early morning, so Harry slipped back up to his room in the Leaky and left a note, and then slipped out into nonmagical London.

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Harry couldn't do much with his Mist Flames, but he could make himself look older and make it seem like he had proper identification which meant he'd been able to set up his nonmagical bank accounts, (most of the work had been done as a project for Bel, with Mammon looking over his shoulder and adding commentary and then charging him for the advice), but now Harry Potter, under various aliases, had seven bank accounts at five different banks and they were all going to be raking in interest while he was off at school.

The cool part was that regular, nonmagical London didn't have magic or Flame technology so that had made things _a lot_ easier.

Granted, some accounts would be getting better interest than others, but by having them established now, it would make moving his money over later a lot easier. Having several accounts under different names also kept his net worth low enough that he didn't get put on anyone's watch list.

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Harry listened to Ron and Hermione squabble with half an ear and thought about what Mr. Weasley had told him about Sirius Black.

 _Something didn't add up._

Kind of in the same way that everyone thought Harry was a Prince raised in a castle sort-of-way.

This year was going to _suck_ , he could just feel it.

―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―

Harry's intuition had been right, Third Year _sucked_.

The stupid Ministry had stationed Dementors around the school. Even a _Magical Creature novice_ like Harry could tell was a _stupendously bad_ idea.

(Harry had followed his instincts and taken a walk while the train had been making its way towards Hogwarts and had been in a different compartment when the Dementors had come aboard. He met a pair in the Baggage Compartment and had summoned his sword by instinct. Only Harry walked _out_ that compartment. Everyone had been so worried about the train and had been so affected by the negative atmosphere the Dementors brought with them that his ashen face had slipped under the radar of the Professors.)

Not to mention, he'd had to argue his way into Arithmancy and Runes. Professor McGonagall had huffed and hummed, but she'd let him take Runes, Arithmancy, and Care of Magical Creatures in the end. The stern warning she'd given him about slacking off had irritated him, but he soothed himself with the knowledge that she had _no idea_ what he'd been doing over the summer.

Hermione had been pulled aside by Professor McGonagall when they'd arrived and had been clutching at her necklace ever since. (She hadn't been wearing a necklace this summer, had she?) Ron had been irritated at his dropping of Divination, and then the other had drifted away as Harry applied himself to his new classes with a vengeance.

If there was one thing that the Varia had beaten into him that summer, it was to _question everything_. The smallest details could be an indication of something coming- or warn of an ambush or something. The Varia had repeatedly _beaten it into him_ and _set him up to fail when he didn't pay attention_ in order to get that lesson to _stick_. Consequently, he was actually _paying attention_ to seemingly insignificant details like Hermione having a new necklace shortly after her secret meeting with their Head of House.

(Another lesson he'd had repeatedly bashed into his thick skull was to always remember that _people lie_ and _there are three sides to every story-_ yours, theirs, and the truth.)

Harry's new dedication to the little things had helped him pick out Malfoy's intention to ruin Hagrid's first lesson. When the blonde prat had marched towards the proud Hippogryff, Harry had discreetly hit the boy with a charm that was usually used for grease stains, but when used on a person it would induce the urgent need to find the nearest loo. The Potter had been gratified to see Malfoy's face turn red as he quickly informed Hagrid that he needed to use the loo before he all but ran back towards the castle.

The young teen had also noted the new DADA Professor's strange side-glances. They weren't hostile glances, more like sad or longing ones, but as the last two DADA Professors had either tried to cause him grievous injury, he kept his distance.

Another bone of contention between him and Hermione was that Harry wanted to _learn_ , while Hermione wanted to be the _best in class_. While sometimes learning and good scores on essays or tests coincided, Harry was unashamedly lazy if he left that the essay was an insult to his intelligence.

Meaning, if the Professor set forth an essay on a stupidly easy topic, Harry would do _exactly_ the work required and move on, which highly offended Hermione's academic sensibilities.

Harry, (having had plenty of experience at learning to work with Varia life- _particularly Squalo in a bad mood_ \- existing in the background), would simply tune her out and continue working, which only served to irritate her _further_.

That wasn't even mentioning keeping up with the work Prince Bel had assigned him and trying to stay in some semblance of shape. (The castle was pretty fun to exercise in, actually. The shifting floor plan added a level of challenge that Harry was sure Squalo would love.)

When the first Hogsmeade weekend came, Harry was pretty unenthusiastic about it. He was allowed to go, (forgery was a _Quality skill_ ), and Lussuria had _beat into him_ the need for rest, so he'd made sure he had his sword and Cloak and signed out with the rest of the students.

―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―

Harry sighed as he thought about the Intel he had gathered about Sirius Black.

The boy grinned up at the inside of his four-poster bed.

Squalo was going to _beat his ass_. However, _nothing ventured, nothing gained_.

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One of the most important things that he had learned from the Varia WEATHER squad was that _intent_ was about ninety percent of the spell. (How else would you suspend your disbelief and break the laws of physics and gravity when casting _Wingardiun Leviosa_?)

He'd done some checking in the Daily Prophet archives the next day, and it looked like his hunch was at least plausible.

Sirius Black seemed to have been tried in the _Court of Public Opinion_ or the _Court of Everyone Knows He Did It_. While the front page of the Prophet blared his arrest and sentencing, there wasn't actually any mention of a _trial_ in the judiciary section of the paper.

With that in mind, he had addressed a letter to, 'The Imprisoned but Never Convicted Sirius Black', and whispered his plan to Hedwig.

(He had also fussed about her being safe for a good half hour before she'd gotten irritated and pecked him firmly. Apparently, his owl was _Quality_.)

Along with the letter were shrunken writing supplies and a brief outline of what Harry wanted to know- including a vow that the boy wanted sworn and how he wanted the return letter addressed.

(The Varia WEATHER Squad was known for their rather….unique approach to things and he'd been tutored by Prince Belphegor and Mammon the Miser, so the Vow was worded tightly. Harry was actually pretty pleased with himself and wondered why no one else seemed to think of things like this.)

The first Hogsmeade weekend had been the second week of October, so Harry had sent his letter off on the 10th, which was a Sunday.

Harry felt a warm rush of magic pass over him as Black swore the vow that Harry had carefully worded almost a week later.

Well, _damn_.

―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―

Meeting up with Sirius Black had been easier than Harry had thought, and the man had willingly submitted to Harry's demands.

By the end of the meeting Harry was even more disgusted with the magical world than he had been previously.

It had taken some flexible application of his new grasp of diplomacy, but he'd managed to convince Sirius that capturing the rat, (who had been in the same dorm as him and Harry had shrugged that tingling in his sense off as paranoia. He was going to have to tell Squalo about that and submit to his punishment.), and running for Switzerland for an _internationally recognized_ _trial_ would be a much better revenge.

(Much like their muggle counterparts, Magical Switzerland was an authority unto their own.

As cut off from outsiders as the Swiss Magicals were, they were more than happy to pull out the Old Laws and find justice on behalf of wronged magicals. Angering the Swiss Delegation was _not_ something that any of the magical governments wanted to be accused of as the Swiss were literally the oldest, most sacred magical authority in Europe.

The only ones that came close to the prestige of the Swiss lines were the 'Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses'.

Mammon had told Harry all this, as Potter was a 'Most Ancient and Most Noble' House. The lines were defined by the magic their members could wield upon their majority, despite the names of the families changing over the centuries. Anything more specific was restricted to blood-members and not even Mammon's Esper abilities could pry the details from their minds.

'Ancient Houses' and 'Noble Houses' were akin to deputized offshoots of the 'Most Ancient and Most Nobel Houses'. 'Ancient' described lines that didn't inherit the intrinsic magic but continued for more than three generations and were in good standing with the 'parent' House. While 'Noble' describes branch families that inherited the intrinsic magic of the 'parent' House that metamorphosed in such a way that made them unique.)

―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―

Harry, having managed to persuade Sirius out of his half-baked revenge scheme, felt sort of responsible for the train wreck who was supposed to be his Godfather.

On accident he called Dobby, and the little elf had been more than happy to retrieve some things from Diagon Alley for 'the great Harry Potter, sirs!'.

Which is how Sirius ended up with a second-hand tent stocked with food and some money, (because Harry didn't want the man doing something crazy like _going_ to Diagon Alley).

Harry was also incredibly thankful for Lussuria's general overview on using his Sun Flames to heal, as the boy had managed to get Sirius to calm down enough to stick to the plan without having to be re-convinced every few days.

(The more _actual knowledge_ and _control_ you had over your Flames the superior, more precise job you could do when healing someone. Harry had _just enough_ knowledge and control to basically patch Sirius together until the man could get professional help.)

―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―

So, with a specific goal in mind, Harry set about constructing a container for the rat to be transported inside.

( _Sometimes the best solutions are the simple ones, Harry-love!_ Lussuria had sang when one of Harry's traps had failed spectacularly and landed him in the Infirmary. _The unexpected throws people off, and then you have the advantage. That's not permission to be stupid, of course, but don't think complicated when all you need is something that will work._ )

That is why Harry had carved runes, (simple ones, he was by no means an expert), into a wooden crate and charged them with _Flames_ instead of _magic_. Even if the rat-man somehow worked around the runes charged with Sun Flames, the Cloud Flames would propagate the crate and the strengthen runes.

At least in theory.

They were crude and basic, but Harry hoped that Lussuria's advice would hold true. The hardest part had been making sure that he didn't tip the rat off and linking the crate to be opened by magic after he'd charged it with Flame.

At any rate, Harry presented the crated rat to Sirius during the first Hogsmeade Weekend of December and wished the man luck.

―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―

Harry was happy to see the Weasley sweater on Christmas morning, but he secretly wondered if he'd get another one. He and Ron were still friends, but they were drifting apart.

There was nothing sinister or earthshattering, just a vast difference in priorities and habits.

Harry still played chess with him, but was far more confident about telling him 'no, I really need to get my homework done', than he'd been in years past.

He and Hermione seemed to be drifting further and further apart as well. They still studied together, actually more than they ever had, but she seemed to be greatly affected by the amount of pressure she was under from all the classes she was taking. This resulted in stilted conversations, as her temper became increasingly shorter as the year had progressed, so while they were spending more time together they weren't really bonding during those times.

While Harry was sad to see the three of them growing apart, he was of two minds about it.

He had already known that they'd never been what they could have been after the fiasco of last year, especially as he'd changed and wasn't nearly as desperate for acceptance. That wasn't to say that he hated or resented them, he was just being very pragmatic about the entire situation.

On the other hand there was that part of him that just wanted to apologize and grovel so that he'd be in safe, familiar territory again. Walking his own path was terrifying and being so far away from the Varia and the insane pace they set was giving him far too much time to overthink and doubt himself. There were even times that he scared himself and it made him want to run to Professor Dumbledore and confess where he'd been that summer just so the man could make everything _right_ again.

But Harry knew that without the Varia, he'd have never handled the Sirius situation as smoothly as he had, and that proof was staring him in the face.

 **DAILY PROPHET SPECIAL EDITION!**

 _ **SIRIUS BLACK CLEARED BY SWISS COURT!**_

 _ **PETER PETTIGREW FOUND ALIVE- CONFIRMED TO BE DEATH EATER!**_

 _ **Swiss Ministry refuses to release Pettigrew to the British DMLE until Sirius Black is declared innocent and granted compensation from our Ministry!**_

Harry scanned the article and was pleased to note that it clearly stated that Pettigrew had been the Secret Keeper for his parents, and that Sirius had never actually received a trial from the British Ministry.

It was a Special Edition that had come out just after breakfast, and Percy Weasley of all people had given the paper to Harry, so the young Potter wasn't sure if the Headmaster was still in the castle or if he was dealing with the fallout in his other capacities, as Dumbledore was both the Chief Warlock of the British Wizengamot and the Supreme Mugwamp of the International Confederation of Wizards.

Less than an hour later, Harry and the rest of the students cheered as the Dementors were recalled to Azkaban.

―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―

The rest of the year fairly flew by after the Christmas Hols and the removal of the Dementors from Hogwarts.

Well, he had gotten called to Professor Dumbledore's office and finally been told that Sirius Black was his Godfather and had declared his intent to take up custody. However, in nearly the same breath, the Headmaster had informed Harry that Sirius wouldn't be able to even apply for custody for at least a year, as he was undergoing intensive therapy in Switzerland and Harry would still be returning to the Dursleys for the summer.

Harry had nodded along with the explanation about Azkaban and Dementors, but inwardly he was rather ambiguous about the matter. (Mostly because Harry fully intended to spend summer with the Varia.)

Sirius had already written him, actually Sirius had bonded with Dobby so they were exchanging letters via Dobby, about the conditions of his therapy. The man had bluntly informed Harry that their best bet to get Harry away from Petunia was for him to apply for emancipation with Sirius as an Advisor, as Sirius' time in Azkaban would make a custody case a nightmare, despite Sirius' status as his Godfather. Sirius had written that he respected Harry's ability to think clearly and plan out things, so while Sirius wanted to get to know Harry and fulfill his duties as his Godfather, he would most likely be more like a crazy uncle than a father-figure.

Harry had been touched that the man cared enough to be so honest about everything. It had caused Harry's respect for Sirius to greatly expand, he wanted someone who was on his side and not afraid to be brutally honest. Secretly, Harry figured that someone like that might be able to understand Harry's choice to join the Varia, which had relieved a great many of Harry's fears.

Professor Lupin had finally come clean about being friends with his parents, (after Sirius had unknowingly dropped that bombshell), and Harry was happy to have someone tell stories about his parents to him, but he didn't really like that the man hadn't told him earlier. Sure, it might have been an awkward conversation for Professor Lupin to start, but Harry would have appreciated the effort.

Other than that, the rest of the year had sped by, and it seemed as if January had just started when June rolled around and they were done with their tests.

―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―

At Kings Cross, Harry received a surprise, as it wasn't Vernon who met him.

"Hello, Harry-love~!" Lussuria sang brightly as Hedwig settled on the Varia Sun's shoulder.

Harry smiled widely, "It's great to see you, Lussuria!"

Lussuria stepped forward and swept Harry into a warm hug, "I hope you've been keeping yourself sharp, darling!" Lussuria said as he stepped back and held Harry at arm's length so he could run a critical eye over the teen. "Because Boss wants to meet you and Squ-Squ is determined to make you a decent swordsman this summer!"

"Your _Boss_ wants to meet me?" Harry squeaked in terror.

"Oh, pish, you'll be fine!" Lussuria soothed the terrified teen offhandedly as he grabbed the handle of Harry's forgotten trunk, "Now, grab your stuff and let's go! No time to waste!"

Harry was suddenly struck with the feeling of _impending doom_.

―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―


	5. Trading Yesterday (KHR-HP)

**Trading Yesterday**

* * *

Summary: Kawahira finds someone else to be the Sky Arcobaleno in place of Aria, and it changes everything.

* * *

Kawahira, in his 'Checker Face' guise, watched the sick Giglio Nero Boss and contemplated his next move.

While the Sky Pacifier _should_ go to young Aria upon Luce's death, Kawahira had found another Sky to take on the burden, (one with a much Purer Flame), and by not holding two parts of the Tri-ni-Set, Aria would be able to use her inherited talents from Sepria to the fullest and keep the family that Sepria had _died for_ strong.

Not to mention live longer.

Kawahira didn't have the gift of Foresight, but something tingled unpleasantly at the edge of his senses and made him restless- and he hadn't lived to be the last of his people without learning to trust his instincts, as the True Earthborn were much more connected to the Earth than the humans, and _something was coming_.

It was why they had had the ability to manifest the Elements in their very souls, after all- though that was a mere fraction of a True Earthborn's power.

(Or it had been, until the Earth had become corrupted with lesser species and the balance had been disrupted, causing Kawahira's people's march to extinction while the lesser races lumbered forward gracelessly, unaware of the chaos they were inviting with their reckless disregard for the law of the universe and nature. But unruly offspring never do listen until the consequences catch up with them, do they?)

So, that left the Administrator of the Tri-ni-set with the issue: to take the Sky Pacifier or not?

* * *

In the end, Kawahira had little regard for the humans and their silly 'rules'.

The Sky Arcobaleno was special, but Kawahira was under no obligation to tell the other Arcobaleno who the new holder of the Sky Pacifier was- and he certainly didn't care that they were technically the 'Boss'.

 _Humans_.

Just as Luce went to hand the Pacifier over to Aria, Kawahira stepped in, swiped it, and disappeared before anyone could react.

(He'd never been more thankful that the Sky Pacifier dulled Sepria's blood quite as much as he'd been in that moment, as Luce had been nearly as sharp as Sepria had been back when they were children, and Kawahira had _never_ beaten her at a game of tag back then.

He was also thankful that the Pacifier would keep the new Sky from Aria's Sight.)

* * *

The little boy looked at him with eyes far too old for his young face.

Kawahira had had to pull him out of a _cupboard_.

He'd seen some strange human childrearing customs throughout his life, but in this day and age, and in an affluent neighborhood such as this, there had been no need for such measures.

"This," Kawahira said, having taken off his mask so that he could speak to the child without frightening him, "Is the Sky Pacifier. It is part of a system that keeps the world in balance, and needs someone to hold it so everything doesn't die. The problem is, over time it will make you sick, and you'll be lucky to live to see your thirties.

There are six others with Pacifiers like this, but they are reduced to the forms of babies- the holder of this Pacifier is the only one who ages normally. You can identify who they are and what Element they represent by the color of their Pacifier.

Collectively the seven of you are commonly called _I Prescelti Sette_ or 'The World's Strongest Seven' or the Arcobaleno. There are seven types of Flames of the Dying Will: Sky, Storm, Rain, Lightning, Sun, Cloud, and Mist. Their abilities are: Harmonization, Disintegration, Tranquility, Hardening, Activation, Propagation, and Construction, respectively. There are also Hard flames and Soft Flames, as well as Classic versus Inverted Flame users. Each Flame has a characteristic color: Sky is orange, Storm is crimson, Rain is blue, Lightning is green, Sun is yellow, Cloud is purple, and Mist is an opaque indigo. Are you following along with me?" Kawahira had been using his Mist to make illustrations as he explained, and there was a book in front of the boy.

The boy gingerly picked up the book and nodded hesitantly.

"The system that the Pacifiers are part of is called the Tri-ni-Set, and it is what keeps all life on Earth perpetuating- or continuing to exist." Kawahira paused and squinted at the boy, "You're taking this pretty calmly."

The boy smiled at the white-haired man, "At least my life would mean something this way." He muttered, scuffing a sock on the floor of the 'junk room', "My parents were drunks who got themselves killed and my relatives hate me. At least if I wore your Pacifier I'd be doing something useful with my life. Even if it k-kills m-e." The boy's breath hitched over the end of his statement. "And you used those pretty Flame-things in front of me already, and Aunt Petunia already calls me a freak." He shrugged, "Not that hard to put it all together."

Kawahira sighed internally, he _hated_ humans- not the boy in front of him specifically, but all the stupid humans around him who made this _eight-year-old_ think like that, "Well, that's not all I have to tell you. Flame users are usually always in the Mafia, so you'll need to keep your Pacifier on the bracelet I made you- maybe fasten it to your thigh or something- and eventually your Arcobaleno will find you and make a big fuss about you having the Pacifier- as you are the Sky and that make you their Boss, according to their rules- but by then it will have been with you long enough that they won't be able to take it away from you."

The boy nodded.

"However, the Mafia world isn't the only hidden society on Earth. There is also the Earth's magical population."

"There's no such thing as magic." The boy said quickly, eyes going wide and his body trembling slightly.

Kawahira sighed out loud this time _, he really hated humans_.

* * *

Kawahira was usually content to just leave his Arcobaleno to their lives once he'd done his job, but he'd stopped long enough to dump a hefty amount of Mist into the minds of the Dursley family before he left that night.

He was a True Earthborn, but he wasn't entirely heartless, and the boy had accepted the Pacifier with minimal fuss, so the least Kawahira could do was make sure that his 'family' treated him with at least cool disdain, (and it wouldn't do Kawahira any good if the boy died early from malnutrition, so he'd left strict instructions on how the boy was to take care of himself in the book he'd left with the brat).

The Pacifier would also protect itself and its bearer from mental attacks, so Kawahira had no concerns about the magicals finding out about the boy's status, and by the time the other Arcobaleno thought to check _England_ , the boy would be fully bonded to the Anchor.

As he stepped back into his shop, Kawahira allowed himself a moment to lament the need to use such a bright, young soul for such a dark task- but the boy's Flame was one of the purest he'd seen in _millennia_ \- potentially even purer than Giotto's had been- and as the Tri-ni-Set Administrator, Kawahira knew he'd made the correct decision.

As a person, though, even _he_ hated himself a little bit at the moment, and he'd had to turn _his own children_ into Arcobaleno over the years.

* * *

Harry Potter turned the brightly glowing orange Pacifier over in his hands, the cheerful light it was giving off a pleasant warmth to his turbulent thoughts.

Uncle Kawahira had said that once the Pacifier had fully bonded to him it would only glow when one of his fellow Arcobaleno was near, but right now it was stabilizing.

The eight-year-old scoffed to himself and tried to push back against the tears that were forming in his eyes as he thought about how _screwed up_ it was that the man who gave him the thing that was going to _kill him_ was the closest thing he'd ever had to a _real friend_ or _actual family_.

Harry sniffled and swiped at his eyes angrily. He wasn't going to waste time feeling sorry for himself, Uncle Kawahira had done something to the Dursleys with his pretty Flames and now they were mostly ignoring him, and if Harry only had so much time left, he certainly wasn't going to waste it _crying in Dudley's junk room_.

The boy pushed down his oversized pants and buckled the bracelet-like strap to his thigh like Uncle Kawahira had suggested, grinning like a loon when it shrunk to fit snugly.

 _It's like magic!_ Harry thought delightedly, still somewhat skeptical of the whole magical-society thing, but willing enough to wait for confirmation.

With that, Harry Potter skipped out of the room and headed for the secret stash of pounds that his Aunt Petunia kept under the vase in the hallway, he was going to get some clothes and some books.

Even if the Dursleys snapped out of whatever they were in after a few days, he'd have a few days and some memories to fall back on- and he only had so much time to make those now.

* * *

The Arcobaleno were in an uproar.

Luce had passed on, but 'Checker Face' had stolen the Pacifier and _now they didn't know who their Sky was_!

Even more disturbing was that no one in the Mafia had come forward, which meant that somewhere a civilian- _like Skull had been_ \- had had the Sky Pacifier dumped on them and the Elements weren't anywhere near that person.

The Pacifiers were connected in a twisted way, (it was what allowed the Sky Arcobaleno to Sacrifice and bring back the Elements if they were lost), so the other six, (well, seven if you counted Lal Mirch), could feel the Flames of the new Sky Arcobaleno resonating through their Pacifiers, but they couldn't trace them back to their source.

This made the Elements grouchy.

Well, if 'grouchy' could be applied to cold, hard killers who were able to end a person's like with a credit card if the need arose.

"Still _nothing_ , Verde?" Reborn barked impatiently.

"Science takes _time,_ Reborn." Verde snapped back.

The two descended into squabbling and Skull sidled up to Viper. "Hey Viper."

"Time is money, Skull."

The purple-haired former stuntman sighed, "Yeah, I know. But hey, does out new Sky feel-er, _childlike_ to you?"

The hooded baby turned to face the Cloud Arcobaleno contemplatively, "I thought I was the only one who had noticed." Viper admitted after a few moments of silence, "But as pure as the Flame feels, it also feels very childish to me. I believe that our associates are looking in the wrong direction as well."

Skull's lips tightened and he ran a frustrated hand through his hair, "A kid." He muttered to himself. "You dragged a kid into this, _you asshole_."

"Indeed." Viper agreed, "However, I don't believe that our fellow Arcobaleno would be inclined to listen to us at this point- not even Fon, he's especially Storm-y right now, so we should keep this to ourselves."

"Conduct our own search."

"Only if you work for free."

"So mean, Viper." Skull pouted playfully.

* * *

Uncle Kawahira's book had been a lifesaver, and it was Harry's most treasured possession. The boy had changed a lot in the past few years, no longer afraid to fight back or stand up for himself, but more willing to see other people's points of view and not jump to conclusions either.

There were two hidden societies right under most of the modern world's noses, who knew what other mysteries could be lurking out there! He didn't want to miss something _amazing_ because he was worried about something stupid- like other people's _opinions_.

Uncle Kawahira had told Harry that when he was eleven he'd be invited for formal magical schooling, but Harry wasn't really interested in that, to be honest. However, he did want to see if his parents had actually been drunks or not, (Uncle Kawahira hadn't told him his personal story), so maybe he'd go for a year.

According to his book, his Pacifier could shatter just about any Trace the magicals could put on him, so Harry would wait and see, but if this school didn't live up to his expectations of _breathtaking_ , he just wouldn't go back.

He only had so much time, after all, and he wanted to see the _world_.

Harry had been getting barely passing grades in most of his classes because he'd been committing himself to learning as many languages as he possibly could and learning as much about foreign countries and traveling as he could find information on. He was currently fluent in Spanish, French, Italian, and English. He was still struggling with his Chinese and Japanese- and he couldn't read in all of them easily, but he was _determined_ , and stayed up late and half-assed his other work just to push himself further.

He might be destined to die early, but he was going to make his years count, even if they just counted to himself.

He wanted to experience a Russian winter, see the Northern Lights in Alaska, play with Penguins in Antarctica, watch a Lion defend its pride in the savannas of Africa, see the Coliseum in Italy, walk through different time periods in Asia, go and explore the Mayan and Incan ruins in South America, see the oceanic islands, explore the seas-

Harry wanted to _experience the world_ , and _no one_ would be allowed to cage him- not even a world full of magic.

* * *

"It's been almost _two years_ , Viper, and our Sky _still_ feels childish. How young is our brat?" Skull asked frustrated as he flung himself into a chair in Viper's Varia office.

The Mist Arcobaleno sighed, "I do not know, Skull. Our compatriots are still looking for an older teenager or young adult. If we had a name I could find them easily, but we _know nothing_ except that our Sky bears the Sky Pacifier, has a stupidly Pure Flame, and feels childishly young to the both of us."

The Cloud Arcobaleno sighed wearily, "And Reborn-sempai has been getting even tetchier about my not officially joining a Mafia Famiglia lately." Skull grimaced, "I don't want to Viper. I know I'm technically a Hitman now, but I don't want to tie myself to a particular Famiglia, even though I'm not super-strong like the rest of you. I'm still a _Cloud_ , dammit. I might be a pretty carefree one, and an Inverted Soft Flame-type, but I'm a Cloud in the end and I do not want to be _tied down_."

Viper's eyes flashed for a moment underneath her hood, "I can keep him busy for a while, if you need me to- you have built up some credit."

Skull flashed his friend a smile, "It's alright Viper, I'm just angry, is all. Thanks though."

The Mist Arcobaleno huffed, and began to plot anyways.

 _Someone_ had to look out for that cheerful idiot.

* * *

Harry looked at the giant man who delivered his letter and _truly listened_ to everything the man had to say.

The newly-turned eleven-year-old gamely followed the man- Hagrid- through the Alley and made sure to keep his eyes and ears open throughout the trip.

* * *

 _Sounds like someone with an agenda sent me a hero._ The boy mused idly that evening as he absently ran his fingers through the magnificent Snowy Owl's feathers. Uncle Kawahira had told him- and the book had confirmed- that all Arcobaleno had an Animal Partner. However, since he'd been chosen so young and hadn't been in complete control of his Flame, Uncle Kawahira had chosen to delay that aspect of the Sky Pacifier until Harry had gotten a better grip on his Flames.

"Hello beautiful." He said to the Snowy Owl, "I'm Harry. I won't be going to Hogwarts, though. I'm going to see the world. Would you mind being my animal Partner anyways?"

The regal owl ruffled her feathers and gave him an indignant stare, and Harry felt a small pang of loss. "Oh, ok. I'm sorry that you won't be going with me-OW!"

The owl had reached forward and bit down hard enough on his ear to draw blood, and the Sky Pacifier _flared_.

When the light died down Harry looked and saw that the lovely Snowy Owl had changed. She was still just as lovely, but now she had orange veins in her pristine feathers- particularly in her predominate wing and tail ones- and her eyes were now a deeper amber. "Coo." She said smugly.

Harry grinned, flame bright and brilliant, as he reached out a hand towards her, "Oh. _Oh_. I've been waiting for you, partner. Let's fly together, alright?"

The owl _preened_.

* * *

Harry's second trip to the Alley went much quieter than his first, but was actually much busier.

He found that his Trust Vault was his to do with as he pleased, so he emptied it and got a nifty pouch that would convert currency as he needed it. The Goblins had been more than happy to assist him for some reason, (The Goblins were a warrior race, and the Sky Arcobaleno Pacifier is a powerful artifact. Magical beings such as Goblins would intrinsically understand the burden of such a thing and therefore view Harry as a _warrior_ as opposed to a _wizard_.), and so his estate was quickly sorted, meaning that the Goblins would be taking care of the financial and propertied aspects until he came of age.

(With his Parent's Will sealed and Harry having never stepped foot into Hogwarts, technically Harry didn't have a Magical Guardian, which allowed him to make his own decisions and appoint Grapplehook his Steward.)

The rest of the day and part of the next had been spent buying books, supplies, and other things, (a lot of them recommended by his new Goblin friends), and he slipped back to Privet Drive for a final night while he waited for his Passport and other items to be finished.

(Harry had been planning on travelling the world for over two years, he'd been reading travel guides, brochures, and tips from anywhere he could find. The addition of magic had only simplified matters.)

* * *

August fifth, 1991, Harry Potter boarded a _Holland America International_ ship bound for Alaska, Hedwig on his shoulder and a grin on his face.

"Ready to fly, Hedwig?"

"Coo."

* * *

Harry found that magic was almost absurdly easy once you'd gotten used to the Will required to use the Dying Will Flames.

The wand movements that spells required were _fascinating_ , though, and Harry spent a lot of his evening time in his cabin reading about them. Why were they necessary? Why Latin? Why not Greek or Hebrew or Arabic or one of the Asiatic languages?

Of course, Harry also had to keep up on his other studies, and Grapplehook had requested that the boy stop by a Gringotts location and take some assessment tests every once in a while- promising to allow Harry a small trinket from the Family Vault, (which was allowed by the Potter Family bylaws), for every grade level Harry advanced.

(Apparently there were diaries of past Potters in the Vault, and Harry was a sucker for history, which kept him motivated.)

He'd also met other interesting people on the ship, grateful that the Goblins had loaned him, (because when you bought a Goblin-made artifact, you were only paying for 'your lifetime use' not for the artifact itself, Grapplehook had explained), a bracelet that made people not question why he was by himself, as it made his conversations much more enjoyable.

He'd also started to learn bits and pieces of German from a kindly old German man.

By the time the ship arrived in Alaska, Harry had used up nearly seven rolls of film, and filled nearly two notebooks full of his observations and stories.

"Where to next, Hedwig?"

* * *

Skull was thoroughly unimpressed by the Carcassa Famiglia.

The Cloud Arcobaleno _did not care_ that Reborn wanted someone on the inside to weaken the scumbags, Skull felt dirty just from _being near_ their Boss.

Skull gunned his motorcycle and made a sharp, tricky turn, moodily contemplating ways to passively irritate Reborn-sempai without making it seem like Skull was trying to irritate him.

(Skull was a master at passive-aggressiveness.)

So lost in his thoughts, he almost missed it when his Pacifier briefly flared.

 _Almost_.

Spinning quickly, the Cloud Arcobaleno smoothly backtracked and began to methodically use his Pacifier as a tracking device, his heart beating out a strangely loud rhythm inside of him.

Skull knew _for a fact_ that he was the only Arcobaleno currently in the United States.

Which meant…

 _That it was most likely their baby Sky_.

Skull slowly made his way up the quiet side street, keeping a vigilant eye on his Pacifier, which continued to ebb and brighten.

He came to a stop about a half a block away, and _stared_.

Because there, balanced precariously on the edge of a rickety bridge, with a beautiful owl on his shoulder, was a small boy with messy black hair, glasses, and the brightest green eyes Skull had ever seen.

The glow coming from his thigh was also a pretty good indication, as well.

The owl hooted and the boy looked over at him, "Oh, hello." The boy said in a quiet voice with a British accent, "You must be one of the Arcobaleno Elements. I'm Harry." Then the boy smiled so brightly it damn near hurt to look at and gestured to the owl, "This lovely lady is Hedwig. You're the Cloud Element Pacifier holder, right?"

* * *

The Wizarding world was in an uproar.

Harry Potter, the 'Boy-Who-Lived' was _dead_.

In between his introduction to the magical world and the beginning of term, something had happened and now the boy was lost to them.

(When Harry had used the Sky Pacifier to shatter any Traces he might have just before he boarded the ship, he broke all of the Headmaster's equipment, leading people to think him dead, the Headmaster included. The Invisibility Cloak had returned to its rightful owner without the Blood Wards obscuring him from it. The Cloak was waiting patiently to be discovered at the bottom of Harry's equipment, but that was fine- it was back with its family, which was all that mattered.

It was a shame that everyone simply _assumed_ that Harry had died and that the Potter Estate had entered its Probate Period- the period after a family dies out without heirs wherein it continues to be run by a Steward before it comes up for auction- because that assumption prove costly for them in the long run.

The Goblins knew, but no one thought to _ask_ them, and they certainly bore no loyalty to _wizards_.)

* * *

"Hi." Skull said somewhat dumbly, "I'm Skull." He gestured to the top of his helmet, (he'd flipped his visor up), "and that's Oodako." The octopus cheerfully waggled an appendage.

The boy grinned at him, "That's awesome. Is that your natural hair color?"

Skull grinned cheerfully, "Yup!"

"Hedwig and I were going to get something to eat, do you want to come?"

"Sure!" Skull chirped, pushing back the raging maelstrom of questions and emotions with practiced ease, "Is that backpack all you've got?"

"Ah, it's a special backpack." Harry scratched his head sheepishly, "I have magic, you see, so I kind of cheat a little in terms of luggage."

"Ah, that explains a lot." Skull replied, "You ever ridden on a motorcycle before?"

Harry brightened, "No! But I've wanted to!"

"Well, come on! You're still short enough you should be able to fit if I cheat with my Propagation a little!"

The boy pouted at the Cloud Arcobaleno. "Not _that_ short." He muttered mutinously.

* * *

Skull took a shaky breath and dialed Viper, " _Time is-"_

"I found him."

" _Skull?_ " Viper's voice was concerned.

"I found him and _he's a fucking eleven-year-old_ , Viper. He was _eight_ when he took the Pacifier. Fucking. _Eight_."

There was silence on the other end of the line, _"…..that is not all, is it_?" Viper asked finally.

Skull barked a short, humorless laugh, "You know me too well, Viper." The Cloud Arcobaleno began to pace, absently flicking his purple eyes back towards the tent entrance every so often, "He's entirely reconciled with dying young Viper, he just wants to see the world first. He's not like Luce in a 'accepting my fate' sort of way, but more of a 'live every moment like it's your last' sort. He just wants to travel the world before he dies, Viper." The plaintiveness in Skull's voice was nearly palpable.

" _We cannot tell the others then, at least not yet. They'd try to clip our little Sky's wings_." Viper responded flatly.

The Cloud Arcobaleno's lips curled up into a grin, 'This is why you're my best friend, Viper. Yeah, they'd try to make him a Mafia Boss because of his Flame Type, but he's- something else. He's accepting and gentle, but he's also got a spine of steel buried underneath all that, he's a good Sky, Viper."

" _Then as his Elements it will be up to us to protect him_." Viper said firmly. " _Carcassa is a negligible threat to the Vongola, send your report and disappear with our Sky. You might not be the strongest out of the Arcobaleno, but you're still an Arcobaleno, and I can track you_ easily enough."

"There's something else, Viper."

" _What_?"

"He's Harry Potter."

" _The actual Harry Potter that was recently pronounced dead by magical Britain_?" Viper asked incredulously.

"Yeah. That one." Skull replied amusedly.

" _Hmm, explains a lot. At least we know our baby Sky isn't one to dance to someone else's tune."_ Viper mused thoughtfully, " _Leave the logistics to me, you just play bodyguard."_

"Thanks, Viper."

" _Hm, you owe me gallons of strawberry milk, Skull. The expensive kind_." The other informed Skull loftily just before the line disconnected.

Skull laughed, "Sure, sure. Bankrupt me, you miser." He muttered fondly.

* * *

Harry had come to find that he very much enjoyed Skull's company.

For all of his plans to travel the world and his lack of previous positive companionship, Skull didn't make him feel stifled or weighted down. The Cloud Arcobaleno had a very dry, sarcastic sense of humor, and was _smart_ \- he was tutoring Harry and making his schoolwork go a lot easier.

It was also making travelling a lot more pleasant with someone older and wiser to help with the plans, allowing Harry to slowly relax and just enjoy the places they visited while Skull took over most of the strategic parts. That wasn't to say that Harry was being lazy or anything, but Skull insisted that Harry enjoy himself, and when Skull had finally relented and allowed himself to be paid for his work, Harry had also conceded and allowed Skull to work while Harry did tourist-y things or something non-logistics related.

So, it was mostly due to Skull that they spent their Christmas holiday in the Bahamas, snorkeling and exploring caves.

That was also where Harry had met Viper- or Esper Mammon in front of most people nowadays- and Harry adored the tiny Mist user.

Granted, he was fairly certain that Viper only put up with him because he was the Sky Arcobaleno and was paying Skull so well, but he genuinely like Viper with her vicious wit and penchant for charging people for the strangest things.

Harry was also vividly aware that these two were _protecting_ him and his dream of traveling the world by not telling the other Elements, which was sort of against the unwritten code of the Arcobaleno, and that just made him love them a little bit more.

(So if he slipped a coupon or two of Viper's favorite restaurant to Fantasma or just happened to want to go to places that Skull's gaze lingered on a moment longer than usual- well, that was his business.)

* * *

Harry doubled over laughing, "Oh- _wheeze_ \- my ribs. I can't believe you did that."

Skull pouted melodramatically, "Oh, cruel fates! That mine own Sky should laugh at my agony!"

The Sky in question cheerfully chucked a pillow at the Cloud Arcobaleno, " _Jerk_."

Skull laughed, "Well, that didn't work. I suppose I should start over."

"What are you trying to do again?"

"A really tricky triple-jump, just with some creative flare."

Harry snorted, "If by 'creative', you mean 'suicidal in its survival chances' then, sure."

"You shouldn't doubt the Great and Glorious Skull!"

"Monaco."

Skull spluttered indignantly, "There was a legitimate issue with the fuel injector!"

Harry's raised an eyebrow, Skull drooped, "I forgot to calculate the elevation levels into the jump parameters." He admitted.

"I almost lost you." Harry's eyes took on a pained cast and Skull was quick to hop up into the twelve-year-old's lap, where he was promptly cuddled. "I know that your Flames are the strongest in your generation and you're really good at what you do, but be careful alright? If Viper hadn't been able to pull out that favor…."

"I'll be careful, Harry, I promise."

Harry smiled down at Skull with slightly watery eyes, "That's all I ask. I won't ask you to be safe or give up something that you love, but remember that I'm the one that's supposed to go first, ok?" The young Sky teased lightly.

Skull smiled, but for the first time the full implication that his Sky, ( _this bright, bright boy who loved to finger paint with vibrant colors on plain, but serviceable bed sheets and donate them to orphanages that they passed by and cook dishes from whatever country they were staying in and feed to the homeless or poor and who liked to try to take pictures of the sunrise and the sunset every day, especially when they were over the seas_ ), would _die_ _before him_ truly hit home.

Skull stayed awake that night and ran small hands through his Sky's hair as he watched over Harry as the young Sky slept and wondered what kind of _wretched person_ it made him that he almost felt grateful to Checker Face for giving Harry the Sky Pacifier, because the boy was the truest home Skull had ever known.

The Cloud Arcobaleno sighed and tried to force back the tears that burned at his eyes, "Skull." Harry mumbled, "'O 'eep." A sharp tug on his wrist brought the baby-sized man tumbling down, and he was promptly cuddled like a stuffed animal, "'Night." Harry mumbled into Skull's hair.

Skull smiled and curled his tiny fingers into Harry's sleep shirt, "Night, Harry."

* * *

Viper sighed to herself as she listened to Verde ramble on about trackers and devices and whatnot, prompting _yet another_ fight with Reborn.

The only thing truly keeping her from _bankrupting_ all of these fools for wasting her time was the fact that she _knew_ that their little Sky was safe and sound with Skull- they were traveling through Greece right now, actually.

Viper should have been more surprised than she was that Fon had been the one to catch her on her lie.

"Viper." The pleasantly smiling martial artist had cornered her when they'd broken for a recess and everyone else had all but fled the room and she had pulled out her ledger, "Walk with me."

One did not last in the Varia without a healthy sense of self-preservation, and Fon's Storm was raging in his eyes, "Of course."

They had settled under a tree and Fon hadn't wasted any time, "How long were you and Skull going to keep _our Sky_ from us, Viper?"

Knowing that she needed to mitigate the coming disaster, Viper was uncharacteristically blunt, "He's a child, Fon. He was only eight when he was given the Pacifier, and his only wish is to travel the world. He did not have the-most wholesome- childhoods and is fully aware that he will die young, Skull and I were merely doing our job as Elements to protect him."

Fon was silent for a few endless moments and Viper was hyperaware of her surroundings, but eventually Fon spoke, "I suppose," He said at length, "That considering how close Reborn was to Luce and how Verde tends want to push the envelope that I can understand your hesitation. However," Fon's eyes were sharp when they cut back towards her, "That does not explain why you did not tell _me_."

Viper sighed and resigned herself to being uncharacteristic this entire conversation, "You get along with Reborn better than just about anybody, Fon, and he is constantly at odds with Skull. Harry- our young Sky- is quite attached to Skull as Skull had been his bodyguard-slash-caretaker for nearly a year now, and Skull is the one who _found him_. Reborn has a tendency to hardline and Harry is a free spirit, we were simply concerned about putting you in the middle."

Fon hummed noncommittally and Colonnello called for everyone to come back.

"Get your butts back here, kora!"

Viper suddenly felt like the _mouse_ instead of the _snake_.

* * *

 _ **Please leave a review on your way out!**_


	6. Trading Yesterday: Part II (KHR-HP)

_Dammit_. _Drabbles_ , these are _drabbles_. If this thing decides it wants a _Part III_ , I'm just going to give up make it its own story.

***throws hands up in the air and rants about crazy muses***

Please enjoy!

* * *

 **Trading Yesterday**

 **Part II**

* * *

 **Summary** : Kawahira finds someone else to be the Sky Arcobaleno in place of Aria, and it changes everything.

* * *

Viper felt Fon's gaze on her the rest of the meeting, and it was very nearly a physical weight against her shoulder, but Viper was Varia Quality and she wouldn't fail her sweet little Sky.

The yearly meeting eventually ended and Fon didn't call her out, (much to her relief), but he did fall into step with her and pleasantly ask if she was going to visit him any time soon.

Viper turned her hooded gaze to the side, "I will check my schedule, but Skull should be finished with the job he's working on for me soon and I'm sure he'd love to see you as well, and combining business with pleasure would save money."

Fon's smile brightened and the Storm in his eyes abated slightly, "I'll hold you to that, Viper." He told her evenly before sweeping forward to catch up with Reborn.

Once she was sure she wouldn't need to employ unsavory tactics or fight to keep her secret, Viper used her Mist to transport herself back to the Varia Headquarters and sank back into her chair.

How was she going to break this news to Skull and Harry?

* * *

Harry smiled brightly as Skull wrestled with the sailing equipment, his muscles bulging underneath his jumpsuit.

They'd been traveling through Greece, but Harry wanted to spend more time at sea and not have to constantly be at the mercy of a cruise line, so they'd purchased a ship that had had magical modifications done to it so that they could man it themselves.

The charms would keep it from capsizing, assisted in navigation, kept people from noticing it unless the wards were specifically adjusted, helped keep the sensation of seasickness to a minimum, kept the rooms below deck from being disturbed by the violence of the sea through a series of absorption and redirection wards, and made the below decks quite spacious and comfortable.

So, basically it was like a floating, warded house that ran on magically-generated steam, with a potion-based back up system.

(It had belonged to an older couple who had traveled for many years after they had retired from the Mediterranean Magical Authority, but after they passed, none of the family had wanted to keep it.)

It wasn't very big- maybe ten meters along the waterline, but that was plenty big enough for Skull and Harry.

Harry had been cheerfully stocking the rooms with his knickknacks and souvenirs, a bit happy to finally have a space to call his own and even more ecstatic that it wasn't _tied down_ to a fixed location, meaning that he was still _free_. He had been hanging pictures on the walls since the ship had officially come into their possession, delighted to be able to walk down the corridors and chart his journeys across the world.

Their plan was to sail from where they were in the Aegean Sea to the Mediterranean Sea, floating past the tip of Sicily and passing into the Tyrrhenian Sea and along the coast of Africa as they transitioned into the Alboran Sea along the coast of Spain. They would pass through the Strait of Gibraltar before coming out into the North Atlantic Ocean, where they'd float along the outer coast of Spain and Portugal, kissing the Bay of Biscay as they skimmed France and made for the Celtic Sea, and their destination- Ireland.

Ireland had two Gringotts locations- Dublin in Ireland proper, and Belfast in Northern Ireland, so they would meander their way up the coast and take short trips into the beautiful country as they saw fit, as Harry had wanted to get lots of pictures of Ireland's natural beauty. Harry would take his assessments at one location and choose what he wanted from the Family Vault, and pick up the item at the other location, going by the order along the coast; it would be Dublin and Belfast, respectively.

So, when Viper called and told them about Fon, Skull had been ready to smash something.

Harry, however, had smiled brightly and told Viper to tell the Storm that he could wait when Harry and Skull were planning on visiting China's waters, or he could meet them in Ireland, whatever Fon wanted to do.

"I'm his Sky," Harry told Skull, (and Viper who was still on the phone as she was tired and didn't want to Mist travel to their ship when she'd have to overpower her technique due to her not being keyed into the wards), "You and Viper have done a great job protecting me and I love you both for it, but you can't protect me forever and he just wants to meet me, not make me a Mafia Boss or something crazy. It'll be okay, you'll see!" Hedwig hooted from her perch on a nearby railing.

Skull and Viper both groaned at that, already knowing what the Storm Arcobaleno would choose.

(Though they both tried to ignore the traitorous warmth that unfurled from deep within then and spiraled through them when their adorable little Sky told them that he _loved them_. Neither Skull nor Viper had ever been _loved_ before- they had always been too dumb or too unpredictable or too different or too _something_ \- but this bright, bright boy _loved_ them for doing their _jobs_ \- _and well_ -

Maybe this was what _family_ felt like?)

* * *

Sailing, Harry and Skull had found, was much more difficult than they originally thought- even with their magical 'cheats'.

However, it was fun to learn something pretty much entirely new to both of them, even if they were pretty sure they'd never be qualified naval officers. They enjoyed the sea spray and other _traditional_ sea fare while they were on the unprotected parts of the upper deck, while also enjoying stepping behind the protective enchantments and feeling almost as if they were back on dry land, just with an awesome view.

They really didn't spend a whole lot of time below deck, honestly. They'd stopped and gotten a few hammocks after just a day at sea, and they enjoyed sprawling out in them at night, under the clear skies with no man-made obstructions _for miles_ while Skull pointed out the stars to Harry and taught him the history behind the various constellations under the guise of bedtime stories.

Their little ten-meter vessel slid cut through the seas at about 20 knots per hour without issue, and the trip from Athens, Greece to the Strait of Gibraltar was about 1400 nautical miles. Skull and Harry weren't in a hurry, and fall was a beautiful, if somewhat warm, time to be in the Mediterranean so they looped casually around Crete and Malta, (though they didn't stop), halving their speed most of the time, and outright dropping anchor some other times- making their three day journey take almost two weeks, in the end.

Harry used about twelve rolls of film and had a blast, so Skull counted it as a success, though.

* * *

Skull sighed as he leaned against the mast and kept an eye on Harry's profile in the moonlight.

The thing that was easiest to misconstrue about Harry was that his free spirit and kind nature translated over into being a saint or a doormat.

Neither of those latter titles applied.

Harry Potter had been fighting for his right to see the world before he died since the moment Checker Face handed him the Pacifier when he was eight years old.

" _It's like I had been living in a fog and all of a sudden everything was clear to me_." Harry had told him one night, the first night that something like this had happened, "" _I had always been scared of being hurt, or losing what little tolerance my relatives gave me and being thrown out to fight back. But knowing that I was going to die- did you know that Aunt Petunia was thirty-five when I was left?- gave me the courage to stand up for myself. I don't go looking for fight- and I like to try to talk to people because I like to hear their points of view- but sometimes the only way to earn a person's respect is by fighting them and holding your ground, and sometimes they just want to kill, so you have to kill them first_."

They had stopped in Spain while their ship had been processing, (they'd had to lower the wards a bit to pass through without alerting the MMA), and they'd been cornered by some thugs. They'd just been street gang trash, but there had been too many for Skull to simply knock out before escaping with his Sky, and Harry's words and knockouts had gone unheeded as the leaders showed up with reinforcements, so Skull had had to watch his baby Sky's vibrant eyes dull, (like they always did when just defeating someone wasn't an option), and his young jaw clench, as the boy had hardened his resolve and pushed forward to kill the leaders while Skull kept the minions at bay.

Harry had been learning self-defense from Skull, and he'd always been quick on the uptake so it wasn't long before the gang was leaderless and in disarray and Skull could get his Sky back home.

The boy was staring up at the night sky and crying, (Harry always cried without making a sound), mourning more for the lost potential of the men that he'd killed than the men themselves.

Still, it made something inside Skull froth with rage to see such an expression on Harry's face, and he hated those men for putting it there- dead or not.

Actually, they were lucky they were dead, and their minions would most like run afoul of Viper soon.

"Skull." Harry called softly.

"Yes, Harry." Skull called back.

"Am I bad person?"

Skull gaped, "What?"

The boy turned to him, wet tear trails glistening on his cheeks and re-rimmed eyes serious, "Am I a bad person? For traveling the world when I should be a Boss and for-for-"

" _Never._ " Skull said seriously as he leapt up to the railing Harry was perched on, taking his baby Sky's face in his child-sized hands gently, " _Ever_ think that. You're carrying one of the heaviest, most thankless burdens in the universe. You don't want an empire or accolades or treasures- you just want to live. There's nothing wrong with that. There's also nothing wrong with not being able to save everyone- it doesn't mean you won't try of course- you _delight_ in trying to give the Great and Glorious Skull _grey hair_ -"

Harry released a watery laugh.

"-but just because you cannot reach everyone does not mean you failed, it means that _there simply was no light left within them for you to reach_." Skull finished smoothly.

The Sky released another laugh, that was more of a sob, and reached for Skull, who allowed himself to be swept into Harry's arms and cuddled as the boy cried.

"It's alright, Harry. I'm here for you, Viper's here for you. You're not in this alone." He soothed as the boy rocked him back and forth and tears dripped down onto his purple hair.

"Thank you." Harry whispered sometimes later, when the tears had stopped, but he was still clinging to Skull, "I know it's just because of the Pacifier that you're with me, _but I love you both so much_. I'm happy that I get to live like this, even if it's not going to be for very long."

Skull swallowed harshly and blinked rapidly.

What do you say to that?

* * *

Viper nearly crushed the phone in her hand as Skull quietly relayed the events to her after Harry had gone to sleep later that night, (or rather, early the next morning).

Incidents like this didn't happen often, as their little Sky had a knack for seeing people's hearts and bringing out the best in them, but it hit Harry especially hard when he was left with destruction as his only option. "I see." Viper said flatly.

" _Yeah_." Skull echoed dully.

"I will call you soon." She said just before she hung up, gesturing to Fantasma who gamely hopped on her head and allowed her to float towards Tyr's office.

Viper was taking a few days off whether that old bastard liked it or not, she had _business_ in Spain.

* * *

After the incident in Spain, Harry and Skull received a gift from Viper: a television and a device that played movies via a Flame-imprinted disc. It wouldn't be released on the Mafia Land markets until the next Spring, but Viper had also sent them an assortment of movies that had already been converted.

Harry had gaped and then thrown himself at Viper and hugged her, babbling thanks and promises of strawberry milk for the rest of her life.

Viper gave off an air of patient longsuffering while Harry had held onto her, but Skull spied a small, pleased smile on her lips.

* * *

The trip to Ireland was fairly quiet after Spain, and Harry ended up taking his assessments at Gringotts Dublin.

The Goblins had also gotten him the International Wizarding Standardized Assessment Tests, which was what those who wanted to work for the ICW had to take, (except for the politicians, who were appointed). They were _exponentially harder_ than the individual countries' own testing standards and were administered exclusively by the ICW Examination Authority, (who, coincidentally, _hated_ politicians and found it _hilarious_ that they were bound by Gringotts to not tell anyone that _Harry Potter was alive_. The two examiners probably could have eventually worked around their vow, but they were from Switzerland, what did they care about Britain's political disasters? _Free entertainment_!).

The testing had taken nearly a week, between his magical and nonmagical subjects, as his IWSAT Examiners were _very thorough_ and tested him on _everything_ that he'd studied until they'd surpassed his knowledge of the subject, even in subjects not normally taught at Hogwarts.

By the time Harry had finished, he was moaning to Skull about his brain having turned to mush, and he was more than ready to get out and explore Ireland in an attempt to recollect himself.

So, naturally, that was when Fon showed up.

* * *

They had just sat down to lunch when a head of dark hair popped up out of nowhere, causing Harry to startle and Skull to screech like a cat caught in a sudden rain shower.

"Hello." Said the pleasantly smiling toddler with dark hazel eyes, a red and gold Chinese martial-arts uniform, white pants, and Storm Pacifier, "I am Fon, and this is my Animal Partner Lichi."

Harry recovered quickly and smiled brightly, "Hi!" he chirped, "I'm Harry, holder of the Sky Pacifier. Hedwig is my Animal Partner, but she's back on board the ship today since I was taking my tests until just a little while ago. It's nice to meet you, Master Fon- _you know over a hundred martial arts styles right? That makes you a Master, doesn't it_?- would you like to have lunch with us?"

Fon's pleasant smile turned a touch warmer and he made himself comfortable bedside Skull, (who was just now collecting himself and glaring daggers at Fon while muttering about ' _stupid Chinese ninjas'_ ), "I'd love to, and just Fon is fine, 'Master' is reserved for my chosen students. If I might say so, Harry, you look awfully young."

Harry smiled, his green eyes vibrant despite the glasses obscuring them, (Fon absently noted that Reborn wouldn't allow such a travesty if his Sun Flames could possibly heal the boy's vision problems), "I was eight when I took the Sky Pacifier, I turned twelve this past summer."

"Ah." That much of Viper's story was true, then. Fon supposed that he could cut her and Skull a bit of slack in keeping this young Sky from some of the more volatile Arcobaleno.

Suddenly the boy's eyes sharpened and Fon's breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his mouth- because this was the look of a _warrior_.

"I understand," The boy said slowly, "That you or the other will be angry with myself or Skull and Viper, but please understand that I only have so much time and I will not spend it caged. That being said, I never meant to hurt any of you I jjust-" Harry waved a hand and leaned back in his seat, turning to stare out the window as he continued in a quiet voice, "Skull said that when you all came together with Luce, you weren't the Arcobaleno yet, just a group of powerful strangers brought together for an unknown job. Luce pulled you together and was there for you when the Curse took you, I'm just the kid who got the Pacifier when she died. I didn't want anyone to think I was trying to replace her or be her or something. I'm just _me_ , and most days, I'm not even very good at being _that_."

Harry turned and gave Fon a small, depreciating half-smile, "I'm just trying to live until I die, Fon. I'm nobody's hero or Boss or anything like that, and it wouldn't matter how much training or tutoring I got- nothing will change that. I'm just a traveler." Harry grinned then, warm and bright and brilliant, "Don't you know? 'Not all who wander are lost and-"

"-all that is gold does not glitter." Fon finished with a warm smile of his own. "JRR Tolkien."

Harry became animated, "Yes! I love that guy! Skull has been reading me his books! He does all the best character voices!"

Skull spluttered into his drink, "Harry! You can't tell him! He's a _ninja_!" the Cloud Arcobaleno wailed.

Fon leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner, "Oh really? _Do go on_ , I believe this might be one of Skull's undiscovered talents."

Harry grinned brighter and opened his mouth, but Skull's dignity was saved by the waitress arriving.

(For a little while at least.)

* * *

"Oh, come on Skull, _please_!" Harry whined.

Fon sat back, gently petting Lichi, as Harry begged Skull to perform his favorite poem from The Lord of the Rings.

The Chinese martial artist could admit to already feeling a kinship with the young Sky. It was very different from the sort of companionship he'd felt to Luce, much rawer in terms of emotion, as Harry seemed to bypass most conventionalities and go straight to the source of matters.

In the week that Fon had spent with his new Sky and Skull, he'd watched Harry be remarkably childlike and finger-paint nonsensical designs on old bed sheets from thrift stores during a rainy day when they'd had to stay on the ship, only to turn around and donate them to one of the poorer orphanages they passed by the next day. Fon had watched Harry buy an almost obscene amount of food and then stage a coup on a local soup kitchen, exchanging lessons on cooking local cuisine for the food he'd brought, before happily serving the poor and homeless. After the food had been served, Harry would take the time to sit with the people and hear their stories- making notes in one of his many notebooks and taking hosts of pictures to remember them by.

The young Sky also was doing schoolwork, both magical and nonmagical, and while Skull was an unorthodox tutor, he and Harry seemed to thrive off of one another, as Skull was able to follow Harry's somewhat whimsical way of thinking while still keeping the boy engaged in his lessons.

The week hadn't just taught Fon a lot about Harry, it had taught him a lot about Skull as well, and Fon was a little ashamed of how easily he'd written the other off simply on the basis of not being Mafia before the Curse.

Fon could understand Viper and Skull's hesitation in introducing Harry to the others, but personally the Storm Arcobaleno felt that Harry was the Sky they _needed_. No offense to Luce, of course- but there was a steel in Harry that Luce had lacked, and Fon truly felt that it could only benefit the other Arcobaleno to know their baby Sky.

For now, though, Fon would sit back and enjoy Skull's performance, as Harry had brought out the 'puppy eyes' and the Cloud Arcobaleno had folded like wet paper.

The purple-haired baby gave Harry one last exasperated look as the boy scurried over and scooped Fon up and settled him on his lap, (that was another amusing thing. Harry knew, intellectually, that they were adults, but he had a tendency to get excited and cuddle them. Skull didn't mind in the least, and Fon suspected Viper merely pretended to be annoyed. Fon was a little uncomfortable with the habit, but Harry's genuine excitement and utter lack of patronization kept him from being annoyed for more than a moment.).

Skull cleared his throat and began in a soft, almost hypnotic voice, " _All that is gold does not glitter/Not all those who wander are lost/The old that is strong does not wither/Deep roots are not reached by the frost./From the ashes a fire shall be woken,/A light from the shadows shall spring;/Renewed shall be blade that was broken,/The crownless again shall be king_.**"

Harry and Fon burst into applause, with Lichi, Oodako, and Hedwig adding their own noises of approval.

"Do the older version next!" Harry cheered excitedly.

Skull sighed and allowed himself to bask in Harry's honest praise, (and studiously avoided looking at Fon, " _All that is gold does not glitter;/All that is long does not last;/All that is old does not wither;/Not all that is over is past./Not all that have fallen are vanquished;/A king may yet be without crown,/A blade that was broken be brandished;/And towers that were strong may fall down._ ***"

Harry sighed happily and settled further against the wall his back was touching, tipping his head back to look up at the stars, "The way you recite that is amazing, Skull." The young Sky told the Cloud Arcobaleno sincerely.

Fon nodded and hopped up to Harry's shoulder so Skull could settle on the Harry's lap, "Indeed. I had no idea you were so talented in the performing arts."

"I was a _stuntman_." Skull grumbled half-heartedly, "Showmanship was part of the gig."

Fon hummed and once again thought to himself that this bright, bright boy was what his fellow Arcobaleno _needed_.

* * *

Fon could only stay with them for two weeks before needing to get back to the Triads, but he was surprised by how attached he'd become to the young Sky Arcobaleno in that short amount of time.

"Take care of yourself, Fon!" Harry fussed worriedly, pointedly ignoring Skull's amused snickering in the background, "We're thinking of coming back towards Asia after dropping by the Mediterranean next Spring, taking our time going around Africa."

Fon frowned, "I'd rather you'd stay further out from Africa. They've been having civil unrest and it's spilled over into the oceans. This ship is also small, and for all of its magical advancements, sailing in frozen waters is suicide without an experienced Captain. My recommendation is for you to cross the Atlantic Ocean and use the Panama Strait to transition into the Pacific Ocean, and make your way to Asia that way."

Harry's eyes were steady as he studied Fon carefully, "Wouldn't the drug cartels be just as big of an issue as the pirates?"

Fon shook his head, "Panama might not be American territory, but it's an open secret that they keep an eye on it, and the threat of the American Navy bearing down on them is enough to allow the Canal to mostly operate smoothly. Africa has an ocean between them and the Americans- who, for all their various faults, are a fairly philanthropic people- and so the pirates are far more brazen. I know you have magic and Skull, but I would personally feel better if you avoided Africa for now."

It was a long, tense few moments before Harry's shoulders relaxed and he nodded, "Alright."

"Thank you." Fon breathed out, relaxing as well, absently noting the grateful look Skull tossed him. Hm, apparently the Cloud Arcobaleno had been trying to avoid Africa as well. "There is a harbor mostly used by my family in Xiamen, China, where you can dock, and I can be your guide for the summer."

Harry brightened almost immediately, "Are you sure you wouldn't mind? I'm mean I know you're really busy and everything, but you probably know all the best places!"

Fon smiled gently, "My duties will be much easier to keep up with while in China, it will be no trouble Harry. Though you might consider revealing yourself to the rest of the Arcobaleno soon." Fon held up a hand, "I have heard your reasons, and they are good ones, but they are also _flawed_. You are _our Sky_ , Harry, and while there would be some adjustment for us, ultimately we cannot _make_ you do _anything_."

Harry subsided but he looked unhappy, and Fon didn't want to part on such a sour note, "Just something for you to consider. Now, make sure that you practice your Mandarin as Simplified Chinese is _anything but_ \- trust me the traditional style is _much simpler_ once you grasp the flow of the language."

The young Sky nodded and grinned at him, stepping forward and sweeping Fon into a warm hug.

Fon huffed a laugh and made a mental note to break Harry of this habit _before_ he was introduced to Reborn.

* * *

**Tolkien, J. R. R. (1954), The Fellowship of the Ring, The Lord of the Rings

***Tolkien, J. R. R. (1989), Christopher Tolkien, ed., The Treason of Isengard, p. 80, p. 137

* * *

 _ **Please leave a review on your way by!**_


	7. Challenging Icarus (KHR-HP)

**Trading Yesterday** now had its own story.

I apparently only updated half of this originally, sorry about that.

* * *

 **Challenging Icarus**

* * *

 **Summary** : In order to secure a potential promotion, Vernon Dursley must spend two years as the Equipment Quality Control Inspector- a position that is based in Italy. Some scheming from Petunia keeps the magicals from interfering, but events transpire and Harry ends up finding wings. Will he fly or will his wings fall apart under the harshness of reality?

* * *

Grayson's Heavy Equipment International was the parent company for Grunning's Drills whose main office in Guildford, England, employed one Vernon Dursley.

This was important information because of the letter that his wife, Petunia Dursley, was drafting to a certain Hogwarts Headmaster.

Vernon was currently a mid-manger, but he had the opportunity to become a Vice-President in the near future. The reason for her letter, however, was because his promotion hinged on Vernon going to Italy and overseeing the new tech implementation operation for two years. Italy was actually where Grayson was based after a series of buyout and exchanges, and the newest tech advancements from their Japanese and Chinese contractors were assimilated to the machinery in the plants there, as Italy was much closer and more economical to ship to than England.

The technology then had to be field tested again and again before it was officially sold on the open market- as equipment malfunctions _cost lives_ and _billions of dollars in settlements_. Therefore, Equipment Quality Control Inspector was a huge promotion opportunity not just in and of itself, but for Vernon's future career choices with the company.

Petunia's issue was her nephew, Harry Potter. He had been dumped on her doorstep without so much as a 'by-your-leave' a little over four years ago, and she wouldn't let the little brat's _freakishness_ take away her husband's opportunity!

Fortunately, while she'd despised her sister's _unnaturalness_ , she'd paid enough attention to know a thing or two about how a nonmagical could play the system if they only knew how.

(Petunia Dursley would have made a _most excellent_ Slytherin.)

* * *

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore sucked on a Lemon Drop and re-read the letter before him as he contemplated his options.

" _Headmaster Dumbledore,_

 _My husband has been offered an opportunity to advance at his job, and I will not allow magic to interfere._

 _We will be living in Italy for approximately the next two years, and the boy will be going with us. We will not be selling Number Four Privet Drive, and will be returning here once our time in Italy is complete._

 _If you or anyone associated with the magical world attempted to coerce, cajole, or outright impose upon us a will not our own, then the following vow- written in a mix of my freely given blood and Harry's own freely given blood, and sealed with a spark of his 'accidental magic' will immediately go into effect._

 _I, Petunia Marilyn Evans-Dursley, will disavow all blood-relations and responsibilities to Harry James Potter should outside forces attempt to coerce, cajole, or outright impose upon any member of the Dursley family a will not of our own making, through any manner that might be construed as an outside force. These include but are not exclusively limited to Charms and Potions in any form. I swear that should this situation arise, that I will never again willingly take into my care nor will I shelter as one of my blood, Harry James Potter, and he shall be as dead to me as my sister, Lily Anne Evans-Potter._

 _In my blood I have made this Fervent Vow, with my Lifeblood it is Bound._

 _Petunia Marilyn Evans-Dursley_

 _I somewhat regret that I must take such extreme measures, but you didn't have the decency to ask if I wanted my sister's child in the first place, so I felt it best to be safe instead of sorry._

 _Regards,_

 _Petunia Dursley"_

The Headmaster ruminated for a few moments longer and took a moment to wonder if he should have left Harry Potter with such a woman.

She certainly sounded as if she would have made a quite splendid Slytherin.

* * *

Petunia read the Headmaster's reply and was pleased to note that she felt no sudden urge to suddenly change all of her plans or stop Vernon's promotion.

The elderly man was obviously quite vexed with her, but he suggested that she and Harry leave a vial of blood buried in the backyard somewhere.

 _Foolish man._ She thought viciously. _I'll do one better._

* * *

Harry had _no idea_ what his Aunt Petunia was doing, but he was getting to eat lots of fruit, so he guessed it was alright.

She'd told him that they were playing 'Doctor' and while Dudley might have believed that, Harry was skeptical. However, there was food, so he let his Aunt take another vial of blood, (that made seven, he'd learned his numbers in Preschool, unlike Dudley), and waited patiently for the next instructions.

After she'd filled the seventh of the strange-looking vials, (she'd dug them out of the _attic_ ), and capped them, she handed them to him and told them to go bury them places that they'd never be found.

Harry shrugged, grabbed another apple and ran off to do as he'd been told.

* * *

(In an effort to connect with her sister, Lily had sent Petunia a set of charmed Potion vials as she knew that Petunia adored fresh-squeezed pepper juices to flavor her cooking with, but she hated the waste it created when she didn't use them fast enough. The vials were charmed to be unbreakable and more importantly to _keep the contents fresh_.

Petunia had never used the gift, of course, but she'd been feeling a bit sentimental when she'd received while she'd been pregnant with Dudley, and then she'd just not had the heart to throw it out after Lily had passed.)

* * *

Between being offered the promotion and leaving for Italy, there was about ten months for the Dursley family to start taking the company-paid Italian classes and for the elder Dursleys to pick the company property that they'd be using for their stay in the foreign country.

Vernon even began to try to cut back on his rather boisterous opinions in an effort to not insert his foot into his mouth, much to his nephew's amusement. Every time the eldest male Dursley would start to say something derogatory, he'd cut himself off mid-sentence and his face would go a horrid shade of puce- it was _hilarious_.

* * *

So, it was the Summer of 1986 before the Dursley family plus one departed England for Italy. They settled just outside of Venice, as Vernon would be traveling a lot and Petunia liked that particular location best.

School here was compulsory from children ages six to sixteen, and the school year ran from September to June, so Dudley and Harry would have most of the summer to acclimate themselves before tackling that particular hurdle.

* * *

Italy, Harry decided, was _way cooler_ than England.

Not only was there no crappy cupboard here, but Aunt Petunia also had to be a lot more careful about how she treated him and actually dress him somewhat decently. Oh, Harry was pretty smart for a six-year-old and he knew that the way his Aunt and Uncle treated him, (or Dudley), wasn't right, but what could he do about it right now?

His teachers here were _awesome_ as well.

They didn't let Dudley pull his stunts. Oh, there were bullies and everything, but Dudley didn't have the pull here that he'd had back in England, despite his mother's mollycoddling when they got back to the house.

So, really, Harry was having a blast in Italy.

* * *

The first year went by quickly, the Dursley family taking a few trips back to England to clean up Number Four, but otherwise it was fairly quiet save for Dudley's tantrums and Petunia's constant nattering about how things would get better when they were back home.

* * *

Harry was seven and it was Spring.

It was turning him into a moody little brat because that meant they were heading back to England soon and he hated that fact.

He loved Italy. At first it was just the differences from England, but then he grew to love the country for its own charms, and now he didn't want to go back to Privet Drive's cookie-cutter neatness after seeing the rawness that the world could hold.

Harry sighed and gathered his things as class ended.

"The fuck are you doing, you trashes?!" A voice growled from down the hall.

Harry would have kept walking, but he heard Dudley's voice, "Who you calling trash, _hooker's son_." The Dursley boy jeered.

" _Scum_." The voice was young but the malice fairly dripped off of it, and then there was the sound of flesh hitting flesh and pained groans.

Harry peeked around the corner and saw a boy a few years older than him wailing on Dudley and Dudley's 'friends'. There was someone coming up in his blind spot, though.

Truly, the young Potter didn't really stop to weigh his options much, because the dark-haired boy with the ragged clothes had thrown a _spectacular_ punch in Dudley's face that Harry was going to remember _forever_. So Harry slipped forward and kicked out the back of the knees of Opportunist and slid into place at the other kid's back.

The other stiffened and Harry got an elbow to the side, but he just grunted and took out another idiot who tried to come up in _The Guy Who Punched Dudley Beautifully's_ blind spot.

It wasn't much of a fight after that, and pretty soon it was just the two of them.

The Guy whirled around and threw a punch at Harry who absently dodged, "Hi." Harry said cheerfully, "The blonde idiot is my cousin who talks crap about my dead Mum all the time. Thanks for punching him."

Red eyes blinked slowly at him, "He's a piece of shit." The other said bluntly.

"I live with him. Trust me, I know."

There was the sound of footsteps coming from down the hall and the other cursed colorfully. "Go." Harry told him, "I got this."

The other eyed him warily and Harry grinned, "They'll never believe I did this, and you'll be long gone. _Go_."

The other boy grabbed his bag and hesitated for a moment, "Xanxus."

"Harry."

Xanxus snorted derisively and scoffed, "What a dumbass name, trash."

* * *

Xanxus, as it turned out, was the embodiment of everything that Harry loved about Italy.

He was raw and rough and jagged, but if you cared to take the time to look and be patient there were depths to him that were breathtaking.

Xanxus' mother was actually a sex worker, and the boy was entirely unabashed about admitting that fact, so Harry told him his own story, and they bonded over shitty parenting stories. Apparently Xanxus' mother was messed up in the head and she was getting worse every day, causing the other boy a great deal of stress as he tried to keep her safe and keep up with his schoolwork.

Harry, having a great deal less loyalty to the Dursleys than Xanxus had to his mother, started to work extra hard to help the other with his work.

Xanxus taught Harry how to fight; Harry helped Xanxus catch up in math and English.

Then that summer came, and _everything changed_.

* * *

Xanxus had been getting moody about Harry's impending move, and Harry had been getting _moodier_ about it, so it was no surprise that their tempers bubbled over.

The fire that erupted on Xanxus' hands was new, though.

Xanxus' mother had come bursting in with a crazed glint in her eyes babbling about clams and Bosses, and Harry hadn't understood half of it, but something inside him _twisted sharply_ at the thought of the woman following through with her plan of calling her former client.

(Accidental magic reacts to strong emotion, whether the caster wants it to or not- hence the name 'accidental'.)

So, as she turned to go back down the steps, she tripped, and neither boy was quite quick enough to save her.

* * *

Xanxus and Harry stood in front of the modest grave.

Actually, it was just a marker, as Xanxus' mother had been cremated.

"So," Harry began softly, "I've been thinking."

"There's something new." Xanxus snarled.

"I've been thinking," Harry continued strongly, "That I hate England and my relative and you're my only friend."

There was silence for a moment. "What are you saying, trash?" Xanxus growled, his fists clenched at his sides as he looked down and away from Harry.

"I'm saying," Harry continued steadily, "That we're all we've got, Xanxus."

"You've got those Dursley fuckers-"

" _They fucking hate me and you know it_!" Harry burst out, "They'd dump me in a ditch if they could, and it'll be back into the cupboard with me as soon as we're back there. They call me a freak, they know something is different about me- maybe I'm like you? We're friends, Xan! If we're the same it's all the more reason to stay together!"

Xanxus looked at Harry, and Harry hated the lost, broken look in his friend's red eyes. "At the end she was babbling about me being the bastard of the Vongola Famiglia Boss, but if she'd had a client like that we'd never have lived in this Slum." Xanxus said after a few minutes of tense silence. "But that means that my father was most likely Mafia, if these Flames come from there, so if I want answers, that's where I'll have to go."

"We. That's where we'll have to go, idiot."

"Heh. Suit yourself, trash."

* * *

The Dursley family returned to England in 1987, and Vernon was promoted in 1989.

Harry Potter, however, never left Italy.

* * *

One of the last things that Harry did as a member of the Durlsey household was rob them, (not a difficult task).

As Harry wore glasses and they were crappy enough to be distinctive, Xanxus dragged the other boy to an Optometrist who was more interested in money than legality to fix that issue.

While they waited for the prescription to be filled, they binned the old glasses far across town before circling back to the Slum and paying one of the ladies to add some subtle streaks of color to Harry's hair that would throw off anyone who was looking for his usual hair color.

"It's all about what they're _expecting_ to see, sweetheart." The Firefly, (which was the colloquial term for a sex worker), explained as she worked the chemicals into his hair. "You're young, so they expect you to be stupid and get caught by a gang or be scared. They don't expect you to be methodical and cautious. Changing your glasses and the colors in your hair, along with borrowing Xanxus' clothes will help you blend in quite nicely. No one pay attention to Xanxus, either, unless he's fighting- so I doubt that you two will face much trouble once you relocate to the other Slum to lay low for a while."

So, not three hours after he'd officially abandoned the Dursleys, Harry Potter was nearly unrecognizable.

As they made their way back towards the Optometrist, Harry glanced at his friend, "Do you think they'll tell on us?"

Xanxus snorted, "To the cops? Never. Especially not about one of their own. I've been on the edge of the streets long enough to know the difference between a brat throwing a fit and genuine need, the fact that I'm letting you tag along says it all, trash."

Harry grinned, despite the full weight of being responsible for his own survival pressing down on him, "So, I have a dumb name."

"Fuck yeah, you do."

"And my Aunt made me bury vials of my blood in our yard back in England."

"You told me about that. _Crazy bitch_."

Harry took a deep breath and turned to face his friend, "Xanxus, I know this sounds crazy, but I think we should do some type of blood-brother oath. It just feels important." Harry flailed a little and looked at the ground, not wanting to see the disgust and rejection in his friend's eyes.

Xanxus, on the other hand, was frozen.

Blood-siblings were a _big fucking deal_. They were family that _you chose_ , and there was no going back after an oath was made. The Rite had its history back in Ancient Rome, which wasn't so much a forgotten fragment of history by the people who could see the remnant of the once-great society during their daily lives. The little dark-haired, green-eyed boy was his only friend, (although Xanxus had never admitted that), but something like possessive fire flared to life in his gut at the idea of binding the other to him as _family_ through _blood_.

The silence had stretched thick between them and Harry's shoulders had hunched and he was shuffling nervously. "Alright." Xanxus said in a much calmer voice than he felt, "But I get to pick your name."

Harry's head snapped up and he smiled breathtakingly, heart-stoppingly beautifully at the other, "Sure!"

* * *

They finished their transaction at the Optometrist and hurried back to Xanxus' apartment, (it was paid for another week, and the landlord was a Slum Graduate who Xanxus had talked into transferring the rest of the rent into another building in the other Slum instead of just refunding the money).

The two sat facing each other on the clean, but worn floor of the dining room/living area.

Xanxus handed Harry the knife hilt-first, his eyes steady.

(His heartbeat was loud in his ears though, because surely Harry would come to his senses and see that his shitty middle class family was better than anything _Xanxus_ could offer him.)

Harry grasped the knife's handle and slid the sharp blade through the tender flesh of his palm without a moment's hesitation, whimpering a, little at the sting.

(Xanxus was his best friend, his whole world. Harry never wanted to go back to being that boy in the cupboard.)

Xanxus took the blade and slashed his own palm with barely a grimace, and reached up to press their bleeding palms together.

He recited the vow, and Harry repeated it back to him, as their blood mingled and fell into the bowl they'd placed to catch the excess.

Something strange tingled along their senses, alighting Xanxus' red eyes with the same type of delight that they shone with when he was in the midst of a truly amazing fight. Harry's green eyes blazed with something otherworldly as the tension in the room _built_ _and built and built_ until-

"-my brother, Emesto."

(The tension shattered, light flared, and fire burned.)

* * *

When they'd come to a little while later, before Xanxus could properly freak out about the black-ish tar covering Emesto's face, the first raspy words out of his new sibling's mouth was, "'Emesto'. You named me ' _Serious_ '?

Xanxus grinned unrepentantly, "You're a serious _pain in my ass_ , aren't you?"

His new brother tried to meld further into the floor and groaned, "That sense of humor of yours ought to come with a _warning label_."

The other scoffed and shifted over to swipe the bowl, (absently noting that it was empty and smelled burnt), and moved over to the sink to quickly wash it and refill it with some warm water and grabbed a dishcloth before making his way back over towards the younger boy. "How are you?" Xanxus asked quietly as he gently started to scrub at the blackish crap.

"Ok, actually." The other replied honestly, "I've got a headache, but it's like a _good headache_? I don't know, it's like I'd had had a headache, but now I don't, but my body hasn't caught up yet."

"That makes exactly _no_ sense, Mes."

Mes laughed brightly, " _I did it Xan,_ did you see?"

Xanxus lips curled into something warmer without his permission, "I saw brat. You've got fire too. It's different colored than mine, though."

* * *

 _Having a little brother_ , Xanxus mused to himself as he watched Mes sleep, _was way different than just having a best friend._

Suddenly Xanxus' anger and rage was thrice as sharp and concentrated as it had ever been, helping the elder boy to focus on what the duo needed to do _next_ instead of dwelling on _what ifs, could haves, or should haves_.

It still amazed Xanxus, even nearly two years after their blood oath, that Mes had so easily discarded his old life for him. Mes also never complained about anything that Xanxus _expected him to_ \- like the food quality or clothing or the types of jobs they'd had to take on to survive or the lack of any of the comforts that Mes should have been used to, growing up with money like he did- instead Mes would whine about Xanxus working too hard or ignoring him or not letting them sneak into a museum.

Xanxus shook his head as he ran his fingers through Mes's messy hair, making a mental note to have it touched up soon.

They'd had a few run-ins with other people who could use the same fire as them, but none of those encounters had been conducive to asking questions, and one group had tried to kidnap them.

Well, they had tried to kidnap Mes, as he was smaller.

(Xanxus had lost control and burned them all to less than ashes. He'd only come back to himself when he'd realized that Mes was standing in the inferno, gripping his shoulders and crying for Xanxus to come back to him. Mes hadn't even been concerned that he'd been _standing in fire_ , he'd been worried about _Xanxus_ \- the ridiculous brat.)

While two children, (well, Xanxus was thirteen this year and Mes would be ten), would normally be prime targets for trafficking or gangs, they were anything but conventional.

Growing up with a Firefly for a mother had taught Xanxus more about the darker side of the world than most ever knew existed and he doubted that he ever had much innocence in the form of ignorance. Mes also had the uncanny instincts of a survivalist fox, and between the two of them they'd managed to keep up with their education, (Mes just working up to Xanxus' grade level to make things simpler), and stay out of the normal pitfalls of street kids.

Xanxus tensed as he heard the window in the next room slide open, and he shook Mes awake with a hand over the other boy's mouth.

Soundlessly they ghosted towards the opposite side of door, making sure to stay out of sight of the room's window.

(Some of their 'jobs' had been taking out drug-dealing scum. They'd learned about snipers when one had nearly taken Mes out, and only the boy's uncanny reflexes had saved him.)

They didn't hear any footsteps, which meant that whoever was after them was a damn professional.

Xanxus forcibly evened out his breathing and fell into his battle mindset. Since those fuckers had tried to kidnap Mes, they'd had a couple run-ins with people like this, which is why they had taken to sleeping in shifts.

The door swung open, and the boys struck- hard and fast and lethal.

Unfortunately, they weren't up against ordinary assassins.

* * *

Xanxus snarled as the fucker stepped closer. "I'll bring us all down before I let you take us." He raged as he brought out the darkest part of his fire.

The man with the sword, (who had _wounded_ Mes who _bleedingbleedingbleeding_ behind him), came to a stop just outside of Xanxus' absolute limit. "I am Tyr, the Boss of the Varia, the Vongola Famiglia's Independent Assassination Squad." The man said simply, blue eyes cold as he stared at Xanxus, "The group of people you burned to death six months ago were members of the CEDEF- the Vongola's External Advisors. They sent assassins- _good ones_ \- and none of them returned, so the matter came to the Varia. I expected an older target, honestly, for some of the assassins that you've taken down. As I hold no loyalty to the CEDEF outside of their connection to the Vongola, I want to hear about the event from your perspective- as I believe we might have more in common that I previously believed."

Xanxus inwardly snarled, but this man was _damn good_ , and Xanxus knew he'd have to kill himself _and_ Mes to get him. That was unacceptable when there was a possible alternative, even if the alternative made him want to gnash his teeth. "We got hired to take out some drug runner scum, and those fuckers showed up. We fought, they grabbed Mes and tried to shove him in a car, I flipped my shit, they died."

The man hummed, "Mes. The boy behind you?"

" _My brother_." Xanxus snarled, the sound being pulled from the depths of his soul as he remembered that his little brother was still bleeding behind him. (Though Mes had long learned to not make pained noises when Xanxus was already in a temper.)

"The drug scum that you were hired to take out were trying to break into the wider Mafia, most likely. CEDEF uses groups like that as information sources." The man- Tyr- said after a long moment, "The past few Bosses have developed a liking for grabbing Flame Active children early which allows the CEDEF to indoctrinate them to be entirely dependent and loyal to them."

The boy shrugged absently filing the new terms away for later consideration, "Not a bad tactic, fucking shitty as it is."

"Think so?" Tyr's lips twitched, "The Varia are different. We're small, brutal, and batshit crazy by most standards. We're also the absolute best."

"Oh?"

"You agree to work for us, we'll pull you up to Quality- Varia Quality. You'll be doing pretty much the same as you've been doing up until now, just on a grander scale."

"I'm no one's lapdog." Xanxus shot back fiercely, his hackles raising at the thought of being caged.

Tyr just raised an eyebrow, "My blade is Flame-forged. Unless a Sun Flame user heals your brother, he'll die."

Xanxus was damn good at sniffing out liars, but this man had a damn good poker face.

The question was- was Mes' life worth it?

It wasn't even a fucking question.

"I don't deal with _stupid shit._ People get in my face, I'll put them the fuck down." Xanxus said by way of reply.

Tyr grinned then- and it was sword sharp and lethal, "Welcome to the Varia."

* * *

 _ **Please leave a review on your way out!**_


	8. Trails of Petals (KHR-HP)

I don't know if others do, but while I use terms from my other fics, I usually change them a little or spell them out between works.

Please don't assume that they carry over- they might or they might not!

(I had some people get confused about some BMWF stuff that's different from some NGDGU stuff.)

I don't think this has been done before, so I'm kind of wondering if it seems plausible to you guys!

* * *

 **Trails of Petals**

* * *

 **Summary** : Secrets best are kept between yourself and the dead, but Family Magic has a habit of bending the rules.

 **or**

 **Summary** : Lily and Dumbledore might have believed that goodness resided inside of Petunia Dursley, but James Potter sure as hell _didn't_. Some things a Potter takes to his grave, even if he leaves behind a trail for certain others to follow.

* * *

In the history of the Vongola Famiglia, there had only been one female Boss- Daniela, also known as Donna Ottava.

She had been meant to be named 'Daniel', and instead of going with the more feminine spelling of 'Danielle' her father had looked at his newborn daughter, and pronounced her 'Daniela'.

Fabio Vongola, or Don Settimo, had lived through the Great War and had already buried four children and two wives. Daniela was his sixth child, and as it would turn out, his only offspring who would outlast him and take the mantle of 'Boss'.

* * *

When Daniela had been young girl, she'd often been told that she needed to be more ladylike so that the young men who wanted to curry favor with her father would be more inclined to want to woo her.

"With your black hair and pretty hazel eyes, you're a catch," Her tutors would simper, "But you need to _actually act_ like the bred lady you are."

Eventually her irritation had peaked and she'd disappeared into Venice for a few days, only to come back with a rather lovely, vibrant tattoo of a flower resting near her right eye and spiraling gracefully down her cheek. "I've got a flower on my face, this is as girly as I'm going to get, now shut up and let me work on my archery in peace!" She'd snapped at the gaping idiots.

* * *

Vongola Primo was Daniela's _hero_ , but she sort-of not-so-quietly wanted a time machine so she could go back in time and have his right-hand man's babies.

G, the First Generation Storm Guardian, was Daniela's one true love, and no one would _ever_ convince her otherwise. She admired Primo as a Boss, but she admired G as a tactician and a planner. The few stories that had survived told tales of G turning the enemy's own advantages against them when things looked darkest for the Vongola, and Daniela really could appreciate a man like that.

(And, well, she was a healthy young woman and the man was _attractive_ , even for having existed four hundred years ago and having few surviving portraits.)

* * *

Daniela abruptly became Donna Ottava at sixteen in 1934, just in time for the shit to truly hit the fan and the Second World War to fully explode.

* * *

Donna Ottava sat back and re-read the reports.

An unknown, outside force was interfering with her people, causing memory gaps and a host of other issues.

Not on her watch. Secondo had created the Varia for a reason.

"Get me Boss Messa." She ordered.

* * *

The Varia's WEATHER Squad had been created for the sole purpose of handling issues that crossed over into the newly-discovered magical world's territory.

After the near-disaster of them almost being found out, (and losing a damn good Mist in the process), Donna Ottava had set about restricting and compartmentalizing the information about the magical world, so that if they ever _were_ discovered, the Vongola wouldn't be left entirely helpless.

She also developed a deep loathing of Albus Dumbledore and his _sanctimonious bullshit_.

* * *

In 1940, with Daniela being sick to death of snide comments about heirs and marriages from her fellow Bosses when there were _more important things happening_ , she once again called on the Varia Boss.

(Timoteo never knew that the man he sent to his death in one of his first big screw-ups as Don Nono was his father.)

* * *

Caleb Potter was the uncle of Lord Charlus Potter.

Technically, Caleb could have inherited, but the man had no use for politics, (the Potters in general had an aversion to politics and had been employing the services of the Ancient House of Briggs for all their legal and political needs since the fifteenth century). So, when his brother had passed on, Caleb had stepped aside in favor of Charlus to become the next Lord of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter and hadn't regretted his decision once.

Caleb was an explorer, fighter, and healer. He'd been in Armenia for the purges in the early part of the new century and had fought like hell against the magicals that had been backing the Ottoman Empire. He'd been slipping in and out of Grindelwald's territory and lackey's confidences for so long he'd almost forgotten what life was like beforehand. So, when he'd been winding through Italy and picking up stray Grindelwald sympathizers and learned that muggles had discovered magical secrets, he'd gone to fix the issue.

Instead he'd found _her_.

* * *

Daniela was intimately aware of the fact that she was nearly a forty-year-old woman and an accomplished Donna. Timoteo would soon be taking over for her and _now was not the time for her to be doing stupid shit_ , but there was something about that _infuriating man_ that drew her in.

Caleb Potter had shown up in her vacation home a week ago and she'd promptly treated him as she would any unknown: by greeting him with her crossbow in his face.

Somehow his threats of erasing her mind had turned into respect for her work, and drinks had been poured as they lamented the lack of sense the younger generation of magicals seemed to possess.

Later that evening had found her tangled up with the man on her favorite couch. As a rule, Daniela didn't indulge herself often with men, especially not with _strange men she'd just met_. They tended to want to use and bend and break her- but this one-

Daniela tilted her head back as he assaulted her neck again and as a pleasured shiver threaded through her body.

 _This one was different_.

* * *

"You're sure that they'll take good care of him?" She asked tearfully as she stared down at her newborn.

Hiding her pregnancy had been difficult, but manageable.

Looking down at her baby and knowing that she was giving him to someone else to be raised was _not_.

"I'm sure. Dorea wanted to come herself, to do this woman-to-woman, but I convinced her not to as a safety precaution. If there was any other way…."

Daniela shook her head, "No," she said roughly as she gently traced her baby's features, "No, my son is nearly old enough to take over for me, and even though I could protect this one, his age would cause trouble later on with succession, not to mention with the magical issues thrown in. J-Just." She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the tears that fells, "Just swear to me that he'll be _happy_."

Caleb gently brushed her tears away and allowed her a few more moments before he took the baby, "He'll be the most treasured child in our world, Dani. I swear." He told her sincerely.

The woman nodded sharply and took a shaky breath, "Alright, then. That's that. Don't come back."

As Caleb Potter turned and walked away, he tried to block out the sounds of the strongest, fiercest, bravest woman he'd ever known breaking down completely behind him.

 _Don't come back when you can't bring him with you._

* * *

James Charlus Potter was blood adopted by Lord Charlus Potter and his wife, Dorea Potter neè Black, when he was under seven days old, so he was able to assimilate some of the Black Family Magics.

The fact that his blood father was an actual Potter meant that he already possessed the Potter Family Magic and could inherit, and no one ever thought to question Dorea's miraculous pregnancy.

The ritual used was actually called 'Sarah's Lament', named after Abraham's wife who had her handmaiden bear him a son.

It had no _direct_ relation to that particular event, but had been developed for families who needed an Heir and, for one reason or another, couldn't have one the old fashioned way. Since Charlus and Caleb were closely related, and Caleb had been in the line of succession, it made it even simpler for them to 'add' Dorea. The ritual was designed to 'add' instead of simply 'overwrite' in an effort to not have to use it successively and propagate the underlying issue. It is also largely responsible for how the Purebloods had managed to keep themselves from inbreeding their population to death or making Squibs out of all of them long before the number of 'muggle born' exploded.

It's also why, when rituals began to be heavily restricted after the rise of the Dark Lord Delano, (a Dark Lord who hailed from the modern-day Netherlands area and terrorized the magical populations in the early eighteenth century), the number of Squibs began to rise.

Of course, they were cast out by their families as by the Statute they couldn't be allowed to stay in the magical world beyond fifteen, and there was _very little_ tolerance for Statute violations in that age. Consequently, about thirty –or-so years later, the number of 'muggle born' students receiving letters for Hogwarts at eleven skyrocketed, creating an entirely new problem for the Staff.

Muggle born students were allowed to attend Hogwarts, but they had always made up less than a quarter of the student population. However, as the eighteenth century wore on and the nineteenth century dawned, tensions began to rise as the number of Purebloods dwindled and the number of muggle born _skyrocketed_. The resulting shifts in the working class were felt by the Lords and Ladies, and they did not enjoy being told that their long-held traditions were _barbaric_ or _outdated_ by _usurpers_ ; especially as the majority of the workforce began to rest on the shoulders of people who viewed magic as a _tool_ as opposed to _a way of life_.

However, none of that truly mattered to Charlus and Dorea as they welcomed James into their home and hearts, all that mattered was that their little miracle prince grew up loved and cherished.

* * *

James Potter was, arguably, the most pampered brat in the entire world, between his parents and his Uncle Caleb.

* * *

Caleb knew that he wouldn't last much longer, not with this new war heating up and his health failing. He returned back to Potter Manor where Charlus had nodded in agreement, while Dorea had sighed regretfully.

It was time.

* * *

Everyone had their own opinions about what had reality-checked James Potter between Fifth Year and Sixth Year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, but none of them had ever come close to the truth.

The only person James ever told the truth to was Sirius Black.

* * *

Stories of Family Magics stretch back to Avalon, where Myrridin gathered a scattered people and built an Empire whose legacy lasted far beyond her Fall. They are also damn near sentient, most notably within the 'Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses'.

'Most Ancient and Most Noble' Houses are Houses which practice a lost art or arts almost instinctively.

The Potters are known for their brilliance in Formation Magic- the predecessor of modern Transfiguration and Charms and far more powerful. The Blacks are known for their Encompassing Magic- magic so powerful it can transcend the boundaries of space and time if used to the fullest extent. (The first Time Turners were based on the concepts the Blacks had divulged over the centuries.) The Longbottoms were known for their Steadfast Magic- magic so incredibly powerful when used for defense it could stop _armadas_ , (and did, against the Germanic magicals that one time). The Bones were known for their Supple Magic- magic able to twist and bend without backlashing at the caster, allowing them to be incredibly flexible in their spell casting.

Each Lord was installed with a ritual, (only allowed at a Gringotts location or the Family Main Estate nowadays), and the Family Magics decided how worthy one was to receive the Family legacy.

The Wards on the Potter Main Estate had been _wrecked_ by the Death Eaters, even though they hadn't been breached. Having other 'Most Ancient and Most Noble' scions at his beck and call, the Dark Lord had known to attack in the vulnerable time between the death of James' parents and his installation as the new Lord Potter, so as to cause enough damage to the Wards that the estate would be unusable while the Wards recharged from ambient magic.

It was the _only_ time the Estate Wards of a family like the Potters would ever be even close to weak, after centuries of being added to and built upon.

(They needed a certain level of power before they'd let the family come and go freely. Usually family members would gather and this wouldn't be an issue, but with it just being James, it would take too long for the Wards to recharge and let him out, so he'd just have let the Wards go into Lockdown.)

So, James packed up what he could, (most things were bound to the Manor and had been for centuries), and left his home, knowing it would be at least five years before he's be back.

(He never would see his mother's favorite rosebush again, as it turned out.)

* * *

Lily Potter had been a truly brilliant witch, but when she'd gotten married and been tested for the Family Magics, they had only allowed her a trickle of information.

The thing about Family Magics is that there is only so much that they will give to an outsider if they deem them unworthy. Lily wasn't so much _unworthy_ as she was _too trusting_ , and the Family Magics were worse than dragons and gold when it came to keeping the information inside the House.

As time wore on, and she became more desperate to save her son, the Family Magics began to allow more power and tidbits through. It wasn't as if they could download ten centuries' worth of information into the poor young woman's mind, but they could _nudge_ and _prod_ and _poke_ when she was researching or calculating.

They also weren't omniscient or omniscient, unfortunately.

As the green light sped towards her, she prayed that her contingency plans held true and that Sirius would take good care of Harry.

 _Please be alright, baby._

* * *

Harry Potter was left on a doorstep in November, but Lily Potter hadn't been the only parent with a contingency plan.

* * *

Family Magics were damn near sentient, and James Potter possessed both the Potter Family Magics and the Black Family Magics, (the former far more than the latter).

James Potter had used every last drop of Family Magic he had, just in case something happened to _all of them_ and his little Pronglet was left all alone.

(Because he knew that the final contingency would be Blood Wards, and that Albus had had Arabella looking out for Petunia since he'd taken the title of Lord Potter.)

James knew that Daniela Vongola was a muggle, but Uncle Caleb had said that she'd been a fiercest, strongest woman he'd ever met.

No way in hell James' son would ever spend his childhood with Lily's _shrew_ of sister.

James Potter had been a damn Marauder- _the leader_ \- and he'd be having the last damn laugh.

* * *

Federico looked at the letter on his desk and leaned back in his chair, meeting Enrico's eyes. "What do you think, Eric?"

"I think," Enrico Vongola- the eldest of the Vongola brothers at twenty-one- said slowly, "That we should get the results back from the lab and then decide how to handle this. I don't want to tell Dad or Massimo though."

"Me either." Federico grimaced, the fourteen-year-old not wanting to sit through one of their middle brother's tantrums, "Do you think that there's a possibility?"

"Knowing _Nonna_ and the way she worked, yes." Enrico said bluntly. "She was the only female Vongola ever. Dad doesn't know who his father is and he's in his forties- not to mention he's the Boss. I think it's _entirely possible_."

"True," Federico allowed, "But what would we do with a baby? A magical one? You know how badly Dad freaked out about you having magic."

"Yes." Enrico sighed heavily, thinking back to what had started to drive a wedge between the eldest child and the Vongola Nono, "But he's gotten better, he just didn't like the idea of an entire world being hidden from him. Hell, he _still_ doesn't know about the WEATHER Squad."

"You'd think he'd be more understanding." Federico said grouchily, "When we can already use _Flames_."

"You'd think." Enrico agreed. "But that is neither here nor there. Besides he's got Iemitsu now." It was an old barb, but one that still stung for Enrico.

Federico made a face as he thought about Iemitsu Sawada. The boy was from Vongola Primo's second marriage, from when the man had moved to Japan. Vongola had kept track of the descendants, and occasionally one would crop up who had a Flame- like Iemitsu.

Iemitsu was Massimo's- the middle Vongola brother- best friend. Massimo was sixteen to Iemitsu's eighteen, but you'd think that Massimo was the elder one most of the time. Unfortunately for Enrico and Federico, Iemitsu was their father's rising star despite his penchant for dramatics, and Massimo got a great deal of attention as well due to the boys' friendship.

Enrico had all but raised Federico after _Nonna_ had passed, and _Nonna_ had all but raised Enrico.

When Donna Ottava had stepped down in 1962, Enrico had been a baby, so she had taken care of him as his mother had died of birth complications. With everything going on with the tensions in Vietnam and the Cold War between the United States and the USSR, Vongola Nono had had his hands full. The man had still made time to see Enrico, of course, but he'd been terribly busy and _Nonna_ had been Enrico's entire world.

Then he'd been targeted by specialist assassins, and one had managed to slip past _Nonna_ and her Guardians.

The fallout from that incident revealed that Enrico's mother had been a Squib.

It had taken _Nonna_ a great deal of time and effort to find a way to suppress the boy's magic so that he could awaken his Flame, and in that time Vongola Nono had distanced himself from his firstborn son, gotten married, and had Massimo.

To this day father and son were at odds, despite Timoteo being genuinely regretful of his conduct. There are just some wounds that never truly heal.

Massimo, in the meantime, had been overly lavished with attention, and hadn't truly realized that he wasn't the oldest or only. So, when he'd gotten old enough to understand, there had always been a rivalry between him and Enrico, despite Enrico not truly doing anything to encourage such a thing.

Iemitsu had arrived in their lives, (introduced as a cousin who would be spending summers with them), when Massimo was seven and Federico was five, and the two older boys had hit it off, depriving Federico of his usual playmate. That was about the time that Enrico had started coming around, (on _Nonna's_ orders), to play with him, and his 'big brother hero worship' complex had shifted from Massimo to Enrico quite fluidly.

Soon, Federico was spending more time with Enrico and _Nonna_ than he was with Massimo and Mamá. Federico had only moved fully back into the Main House three years ago, when _Nonna_ had passed, and he'd all but gotten down on his knees and begged Enrico to come with him.

Federico never regretted that fact, especially looking at Massimo's conduct sometimes. Enrico made sure that Federico behaved when he got out of line, just like _Nonna_ had done.

So, basically _Nonna_ had been scary awesome and Enrico was the best big brother ever.

"But if it's true, there is a chance he has the Flame. You remember what _Nonna_ had to do for you." Federico pointed out.

Enrico waved a hand at him, "We know _how_ now, the biggest obstacle we faced with me was lack of information."

"But we wouldn't be able to tell the truth, and we're still Primo's blood and it shows." Federico contended.

"I'm _magical_ , Fede." Enrico explained in that patient tone parents take when asked 'are we there yet', "And I'm _Vongola_. Legalities are just suggestions to me."

Federico's eyes widened in comprehension, "You can use the same ritual-thing that they did."

" _Yup._ _Nonna_ didn't raise a _fool_ to take over her network, you know." Enrico looked entirely pleased with himself.

"Wow. That's really smart."

"Don't sound so _surprised_."

"I'll try."

" _Brat._ "

"Fine, fine- I give!" Federico yelped as Enrico started flicking paperclips at him.

"Better, brat." Enrico said smugly. "Now, we wait for the results and see what happens."

* * *

(James Potter had used the Family Magic to bind a letter that contained a sample of his and Harry's hair, and a bit of blood. It would be triggered to go through a particular set of requirements upon his death and would present itself to the most suitable guardian prospect for Harry in Daniela's direct line.

The letter contained the entire story about his adoption, the war, and James' fear that Harry would be left with Petunia- along with the name of the Headmaster's watcher. James Potter had admired and respected Dumbledore, but his Uncle Caleb had always told him that you put family _first_ \- and James trusted his Uncle Caleb's judgment more than he trusted his former Headmaster's.

The Family Magics picked Federico Vongola.

Good thing he had his big brother to help him.)

* * *

 _ **Please leave a review on your way out!**_


	9. Precious Gifts (KHR-HP)

I forgot to mention earlier that this is sort-of a hybrid of an idea that **LuxEterna1** planted in my brain!

* * *

 **Precious Gifts**

* * *

 **Summary** : The watches Primo gave his Guardians were made by Talbot.

* * *

' _Givro eterna amicizia._ '

It wasn't until she took the age of the watch into account, (gauged by a few handy spells), and changed the 'v' to a 'u' that Lily Potter managed to translate the first part of that statement.

' _I swear eternal friendship_.'

The watch had come into her possession after her Nana's death. Petunia was being insufferable about having inherited Nana's pearls, but Lily had always loved the old watch and was more than happy to receive it.

* * *

Lily conjured a strap and slid the watch around Harry's neck as she whispered her final words to her baby. "You are _loved_ , Harry. Mamma loves you, Dadda loves you, Paddy loves you. _You are so, so loved Harry_." Lily's green eyes were filled with tears and she kissed her son one last time just as the door blew open.

"Please, please not Harry!" She begged the merciless being.

"Stand aside, silly girl."

" _Please_!" She pleaded once more.

"Stand aside!"

" _Please take me instead_! _**Not my baby, not Harry!"**_ Lily pled desperately a third time.

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

The flame-haired woman crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

The being turned his wand on the babe, " _Avada Kedavra_." He intoned ruthlessly, sending a green light speeding towards the crying toddler.

Only, something strange happened just then.

* * *

Lampo had been Primo's Lightning Guardian, (despite his best efforts to remain cowardly and away from the fighting).

When Elena had been killed in the uprising of the Sicilian Vespers shortly after the military forces of the Vongola had been disbanded and everything went to _hell_ Lampo had still been the youngest Guardian by a fairly wide margin.

After Daemon's betrayal and the scattering of the First Generation, Lampo had been at a loss of what to do without the people he had always considered to be his _true family_ around him.

Eventually he'd wound up in bed with G's daughter and- having no desire to die young- had married her once she'd turned up pregnant. (G being in Japan with Giotto or not.)

Truthfully, it had been a happy marriage, and he had passed his watch to his oldest grandson when the brat had turned sixteen.

The watches, however, were linked to the Vongola Rings, and occasionally a person would have a strong enough Flame to call him from where his consciousness rested inside the Ring to wherever they were, but usually only for a moment or two.

It would seem his descendants weren't all that strong or valiant…..

…..not all that shocking, really. He would have expected G's blood to be a bit stronger, though.

This time it wasn't a call or a whim, it was a _demand_.

Lampo's spiritual form coalesced into a room with a dead woman, a snake-like creature, and a toddler.

The green-haired man's eyes narrowed and he opened both of his eyes as the being raised the wand, (really? Magicals were still using wands?), and uttered the words to that spell they used to kill livestock.

The spell sped towards the toddler who had _Lampo's watch_.

Bright green eyes stared into bright green eyes for a moment as Lampo caught the toddler's teary gaze.

Lampo's Shield might be a spiritual construct like him, but the woman _\- the mother he was assuming_ \- had been kind enough to fill the air with magic and Lightning Flames.

The First Generation Lightning Guardian's Shield met the spell head-on and Lampo used his mastery of his Aspect to send the spell hurtling back towards the bastard _with interest_.

Unfortunately, with all the wild magic and Lightning Flames in the air, there was an explosion and the baby received a Flame Scar from one of the Shield's stray volts.

Lampo hadn't fought against _Daemon the Traitor_ without learning about possessions though, and had _destroyed_ the jagged bit of the bastard's soul that tried to latch on to his cute little decedent after the main soul had fled from Lampo's fury.

He turned around and faced the boy, "Hey, it'll be alright, brat." Lampo said gently.

The toddler just kept crying.

Lampo wanted to cry, too.

* * *

The more he watched these people, the more he was convinced that the magical world had actually _regressed_ since his death.

Lampo had been watching over his cute little decedent, (who he found out was named Hadrian James, Lampo decided that he would call him Baleno), since the incident and _he did not like these people at all_. They kept trying to take the watch from little Baleno and only Lampo's interference was keeping that from happening.

(He was also very happy that the watches Talbot made were perception based. Apparently little Baleno didn't feel safe either and was keeping Lampo hidden by instinct.)

When he saw the white-haired man, ('Professor Dumbledore' they had called him), erecting Blood Wards, Lampo knew that he'd have to do something _drastic_.

 _He's never going to let me live this down._ Lampo mentally lamented as he watched the magicals depart.

* * *

Baleno blinked sleepily up at the person who had so rudely woken him up, "Grandpa G!" He whined at the red-haired man, "It's _Saturday_."

G smirked down at his however-many-greats grandson, "Rise and shine, kiddo!"

Baleno grumbled but complied.

For as long as he could remember Baleno had always had Grandpa G and Nonno Lampo watching over him.

They taught him to read and write and count and how to direct his Flames and his magic and told him stories about the group they all used to be in together called 'Vongola' which had been led by Grandpa G's best friend, Giotto.

Granted, some of the things they taught him were ancient history and kind of boring, but they were still really cool!

It was Grandpa G that had come up with the plan to get Baleno out of his cupboard, and _Nonno_ Lampo was the one who whispered cool things for him to say when Dudley tried to talk bad about his mom.

Baleno knew that they were dead and only existed inside the Vongola Rings, but they were the only family that he really had, because the Dursley's _hated_ him.

(The Vongola Rings were also how they knew about the modern world, as the bearer's Flame connected to the Ring and left the information the person knew behind. It was part of what being the Ring Guardian meant- as they had to be up-to-date on the happenings of the world to decide how much of the Ring's power to lend to the person.)

Baleno was now eight and Grandpa G had come up with a plan to get the boy out of England. They knew they only had one shot at this and the sacrificial Flames that Lily Potter had invoked wouldn't be able to sustain G and Lampo's constant presence much longer.

So, Baleno kept his grumbling mostly to himself as he mentally prepared himself to face his family's cold shoulders and hateful comments.

 _Just one more month_. He told himself firmly.

* * *

Back inside the rings, the First Generation Guardians could congregate and share information.

Which was what they were doing.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi is roughly six years old." Alaude reported briskly, "Although Sawada Iemitsu _is an idiot who is ruining my CEDEF because he won't dig deep enough to see through Daemon's falsehoods_ , Tsunayoshi seems to be a lot like Giotto was when he was young."

"You mean hopelessly naïve and wimpy unless he had something to protect?' G asked wryly.

" _Oi_!" Giotto squawked indignantly.

"Precisely." Alaude answered smoothly, "Baleno will need to make contact with Tsunayoshi early on, but I don't think that will be an issue. He has the documentation he needs, correct?"

"He does." G replied with a grimace, "Though having to send him into some of those places disgusted me."

"At least he won't be homeless or having to live as an illegal." Alaude pointed out calmly, "that would be far worse than a few risky situations in his native country."

"I know that, stupid Cloud!" G snapped irritably, "But I didn't fight against the oligarchy just to have to watch my decedent have to walk into a den of thieves and murders to get papers, just so he can leave his native country because people want to use him!"

"Now, now." Giotto said placating, "We don't like this either, G, but what is done is done. Baleno will be able to live comfortably with his papers, even if he'll have to skirt the guardian issue."

"I still don't like it." G grumbled.

"Neither do I." Alaude agreed, "But we deal with what we are given, not with what we want."

"How are we skirting the guardian issue? This is all for naught if he gets picked up by the authorities and deported." Asari pointed out genially.

"He's going to the magicals' Bank to get the contents of his Trust Vault and converting them all to yen." Alaude said briskly, "Then he'll board the flight for Japan and arrive in Namimori. Once there G and Lampo will find a suitable place for him to stay, and then Baleno will use his own magic and Flames to make G visible for the official paperwork for his bank accounts and such."

"It's going to be exhausting for him to do this, so we're really going to have to limit the amount of time we spend with him for a while after that." Lampo informed them, "But he'll be settling in and we'll be setting up contingencies, so we should be fine."

"So basically he'll be living on his own in a foreign country as an almost-nine-year-old." Knuckle pointed out with a frown, "I don't really like it."

"None of us do, Knuckle." Giotto rushed to interject, "But from what Lampo overheard the night little Baleno's parents died and what we're all gathered from our bearers who know of magic, they won't let him be himself if he stays and waits for his letter."

"His family is also quite unkind to him." Asari mentioned calmly.

"Yes, they are not the ultimate sort of people." Knuckle agreed grimly.

"Eastern magical education also begins part-way through Elementary school." Asari pointed out serenely, "Which is usually eight. If he waits he'll be truly handicapped in his education and struggle."

"Anyways," Alaude cut them off, he was getting to the end of his patience for gatherings such as this, "He will essentially be on his own, but Lampo and G will still be in the watch if he truly needs them. The boy is also very used to having to be independent, so I believe he will be fine. The financial, legal, and living arrangements are covered and if Tsunayoshi is anything like Giotto he won't be alone very long. Is there anything else?"

"I still don't like this," Knuckle admitted, "But it seems that this young man will simply have to rise above life's challenges to reach his ultimate potential."

"Agreed." Giotto echoed, "So, anything else?"

* * *

Baleno had been nervous when he'd gone to get his fake papers made, but not truly felt _fear_.

The same could be said for going to the magical Bank and withdrawing all of his Trust Vault money, (after the painful security checks), and boarding a plane to cross a continent to enter an entirely unfamiliar country with fake papers. He'd sat through the long meetings with the bankers, school officials, and others while holding onto his magic and Flames to keep Nonna Lampo or Grandpa G or both from fading back to the spiritual plane and hadn't been scared.

Knowing that he could only call on them unless it was a true emergency and being alone for the first time in memory?

It was _terrifying_.

Laying there in his new bed, he curled in on himself and clutched the stuffed bunny, (he'd only bought it because Nonno Lampo _wouldn't shut up about it),_ tightly as he sobbed.

He _really_ wished his only family that didn't despise him wasn't dead right about now.

* * *

 _ **Please leave a review on your way out!**_

This was very drabble-y. My muses have been mystifyingly silent the past day or so. Let's hope it doesn't persist.


	10. Recoil (KHR-HP)

Ok! Long Author's Note!

 **Points of divergence** :

 ***JK Rowling has said that Lily Evans-Potter was pregnant with the Potters' second child when she was murdered.***

Now, to me, I think that Lily didn't know or hadn't fully admitted this to herself when she chose to sacrifice herself, as if she had known she would have felt an obligation to tell her husband, who would have changed the plan.

Seriously, James Potter strikes me as the overprotective-mother-hen type when his wife was pregnant, given the supposed low birth rate of magicals.

So, James' mother-henning pushes the Potters' demises back a year.

 ***Lily Evans-Potter strikes me as a fierce sort of woman.***

She maintained her friendship with Severus, despite his deplorable behavior, and refused to bow to societal stereotypes. She also kept reaching for her sister, despite Petunia's cruelty towards her.

While I do like a good fic that bashes her, I also love it when her character is explored and stretched.

I don't think that Lily ever fell in love with James romantically- I think he finally realized his feelings for Sirius once the Black moved in with the Potters and he _freaked_ _out_ because he was the last of the younger Potter generation and he knew he was 'supposed' to get married.

Once he came back to school and she saw his turmoil, (she'd always known he was gay- _boys_ , honestly!) and she, herself, was still reeling from her own broken heart- they bonded. (Because why would she be so intensely angry at Severus and refuse to allow him to apologize otherwise? Hell hath no fury!)

Eventually they came to love each other as siblings, and to protect them both, (as there _was_ an insane madman who wanted to kill witches like her on principle, and James _did_ need an Heir), they agreed to marry.

Eventually, Sirius and James worked through their issues, and Sirius' image was simply a 'cover', because of narrow-mindedness. Really, people see and gossip about what they _want_ when you give them the proper amount of cues.

Also, think for a moment about how fixated Sirius is on James in cannon. To me, that can be interpreted as a lover-complex, and the intense grief and irrational decisions upon seeing James and Lily dead makes a lot more sense to me in that context as well.

 ***Lily's birthday is Jan 30, 1960. She was 21, when she died in cannon.***

By her birthday, she was among the older of her year group- so when she graduated from Hogwarts in 1978, she was already eighteen. I believe that she and James married so quickly in order to keep her safe and to prevent her from having to go back to the muggle world, as he parents were deceased at that point. (In my headcannon.)

*Lily was allowed other lovers as long as no one saw her.*

Because magic is involved, and James can adopt his children while she's still pregnant, giving them his Family Magic. (I'm being lazy and borrowing a ritual from one of my other fics, but don't worry- I'm not going to be that lazy with this entire story!).

Side bonus: They are also Sirius' kids, that way.

 ***No one- not Remus or Pettigrew or the Headmaster, knew about their little 'arrangement'.***

They had no reason to suspect that the Headmaster would understand. (Remember his relationship with Grindelwald was mostly known to a select few of the older generation and that was it.)

Also, they were in the middle of a _war_ , not only did their personal struggles seem insignificant, they seemed like unneeded distractions.

So three people knew: Lily, James, and Sirius.

This is ridiculously long, but I just wanted to state those things upfront before I got complaints.

 ***A 'generation' is usually thought of as about twenty years.***

I am assuming that even when the lifespan of an average person was about thirty years, magicals still were living to about a hundred. Assuming a son took over for his father in his twenties and ruled until his son was in his twenties- I am assuming that on average, a _magical_ _generation_ is closer to thirty-five or forty years.

'Most Ancient' inspires BC dates to me. Magicals have wards and preservation charms- surely they have a few records of their families last that far, even if they have switched names a few times?

 ***Please don't complain about my name adjustments.***

I know that _Harry_ is _Harry,_ but giving him slightly different names between fics helps me keep my headcannons straight.

If you don't like this, _please_ don't leave reviews about how you can't read the story because I made him 'Hadrian' or how I'm a terrible human being for altering Harry in any way.

I own nothing, this is the child's sandbox of the writing world- **if you want greatness, go read the books/manga**.

(I really don't mean to sound bitchy, either. Sorry about that!)

* * *

 _If you're still with me, please enjoy!_

* * *

 **Recoil**

* * *

 **Summary** : Sometimes, life comes back around in the most unexpected of ways.

* * *

James Potter had been chasing Lily Evans since he'd first seen her take down a prat twice her size with just a few words and a toss of her flame-bright hair.

She was everything he'd ever been told that the future 93rd Lady of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter should be.

Unfortunately…..

James flicked a quick glance over at Sirius and felt himself flush before he quickly focused back on what Professor McGonagall was saying.

It was going to be a _long_ year.

* * *

Lily sighed quietly to herself as she tried to not think about the look on Severus' face when she'd had Petunia turn him away.

It wasn't that she didn't love him…..

The Evans' youngest daughter fought against the sting of tears as she tried to focus on what Professor McGonagall was saying.

Petunia might be nasty and hateful, but she was all that Lily had left after that ghastly plane crash that had killed their parents. The Evans parents had gone on holiday to the Canary Islands as a gift to themselves for their thirtieth anniversary, and had never returned.

Now, with graduation looming at the end of this year and only her sister to fall back on and Severus-

Lily swallowed harshly and forced herself to focus.

She'd be _fine_. She was an _Evans._

* * *

Lily and James smiled at each other as the member of the Clergy finished the Ceremony.

It had been tough- getting the traditional reading of the banns done and everything- but Lily had wanted an official wedding performed by the Church of England, like all of her family before her, and she'd gotten it.

She threw her arms around James as he scooped her up and carried her out, Sirius' laughter ringing in her ears.

Today was a good day.

* * *

It had been just after a particularly brutal raid by the Death Eaters.

Lily had been lost, confused, and generally out of sorts. James had been taking comfort with Sirius and she had wanted to find her own company for the evening.

She'd found him at a bar, drinking by himself in a corner booth.

He'd been a steady, unrelenting presence. Impossibly firm and unyielding in her world that seemed to be crumbling at the edges.

There had been an intense amount of alcohol, but she honestly probably would have overlooked the issue until the next morning anyways.

She hadn't realized that he was just _sixteen_ until the next morning.

When her head had cleared and she'd come back to herself and she'd realized just _slept with a sixteen year old_ , (never mind that she was just nineteen herself), she'd babbled out apologies and _fled_.

* * *

Lily, James, and Sirius had planned for her getting pregnant from a man besides her husband.

The ritual used was actually called 'Sarah's Lament', named after Abraham's wife who had her handmaiden bear him a son.

It had no _direct_ relation to that particular event, but had been developed for families who needed an Heir and, for one reason or another, couldn't have one the old fashioned way. The ritual was designed to 'add' instead of simply 'overwrite' in an effort to not have to use it successively and propagate the underlying issue. It is also largely responsible for how the Purebloods had managed to keep themselves from inbreeding their population to death or making Squibs out of all of them long before the number of 'muggle born' exploded.

It's also why, when rituals began to be heavily restricted after the rise of the Dark Lord Delano, (a Dark Lord who hailed from the modern-day Netherlands area and terrorized the magical populations in the early eighteenth century), the number of Squibs began to rise.

Of course, they were cast out by their families as by the Statute they couldn't be allowed to stay in the magical world beyond fifteen, and there was _very little_ tolerance for Statute violations in that age. Consequently, about thirty –or-so years later, the number of 'muggle born' students receiving letters for Hogwarts at eleven skyrocketed, creating an entirely new problem for the Staff.

Muggle born students were allowed to attend Hogwarts, but they had always made up less than a quarter of the student population. However, as the eighteenth century wore on and the nineteenth century dawned, tensions began to rise as the number of Purebloods dwindled and the number of muggle born _skyrocketed_. The resulting shifts in the working class were felt by the Lords and Ladies, and they did not enjoy being told that their long-held traditions were _barbaric_ or _outdated_ by _usurpers_ ; especially as the majority of the workforce began to rest on the shoulders of people who viewed magic as a _tool_ as opposed to _a way of life_.

However, none of that truly mattered to Lily, James, and Sirius. The Ritual would allow them to 'add' James and Sirius to Lily's child while they were still developing. In the end, this would have the same effect as if James or Sirius actually had fathered the child, those Sirius as the 'second' contributor, took on a more maternal role, as opposed to James' paternal contribution.

This resulted in no small amount of teasing of the Dog Animagus, at one point earning him a pink apron decorated with nauseatingly cheery hearts that said 'just call me Mama'.

Lily nearly threw herself into early labor, she laughed so hard.

* * *

Xavi 'Harry' James-Sirius Potter was born on July 31, 1980.

Thankfully, he looked enough like her and James to avoid questions being asked.

(Lily could see his progenitor in him, though. None of them had felt comfortable with entirely writing the man out of Harry's life, so they had allowed for the first name. 'Harry' was just a misconception they allowed to exist, as they had _no desire_ to explain where 'Xavi' came from.)

Sirius, nonetheless, was _hopelessly in love_ with the little boy.

* * *

There was a Prophecy, according to the Headmaster. About their baby or one other.

The Potters went into hiding and were under the Fidelus Charm when Harry was just under eight-months-old.

* * *

Kawahira. That's what he'd said his name was, anyway.

He'd been….strangely intense; for all that his presence seemed to radiate lack-of-enthusiasm.

She'd met him at the library to begin with, and after a few coffee dates, she'd found herself admitting her situation to him.

Kawahira had seemed to be relatively accepting, actually. She'd expected disgust or disbelief, personally.

When she'd found herself pregnant, she'd told him of her intention to have her husband and his lover adopt the baby, and Kawahira had been strangely fine with such a thing.

What an intriguing man.

* * *

Lisiana Madeline Black-Potter was born on April 3, 1982.

(Lily had figured that Kawahira was Asian, and Lisianthus were a flower- so she'd tried to combine the two concepts to make a name she'd liked. Technically, the flowers were native to Texas and Mexico, but it was the best she had managed to come up with and it sounded pretty.)

Sirius had given her his last name, in the same way some children sometimes used their grandmothers' maiden names for their middle names. He was no longer Heir Black, but should something happen to Xavi, Lisiana wouldn't be put up for sale like cattle since the Black name was attached to her.

(Sometimes the Old Laws were a curse in this day and age, regardless of how well intentioned they might have been at one point in time.)

It was highly amusing for Lily to watch two grown men act like _complete_ _buffoons_ for the entertainment of two small children.

* * *

Xavi was just under two-and-a-half, and Lisa was a bubbly five-month-old when Sirius had been captured.

He hadn't betrayed the Potters, but he'd barely managed to escape and was terrified that next time he might end up giving out the information by force.

Sirius had begged them to change to someone else, and they chose Peter.

(It was the wrong choice.)

* * *

Lily Potter had had a lot of time to plan for the worst.

She heard crashes downstairs, and a few tears slipped out of her eyes as she whispered her last words to her children.

She also slipped two necklaces onto them and knew that in a few moments, those necklaces would only be able to opened or removed by her two precious babies.

The door blew open.

Lily Potter whirled to greet her death with ruthless resolve.

(It was the right choice.)

* * *

Sirius was mad with grief.

James, _his James_ was dead and Lily- _sweet, wonderful Lily who had married James just to keep their secret_ -

Sirius ran towards the Nursery and was relieved to see his children safe, but a new wave of agony tore through him at the sight of his sister-love's sightless eyes.

There was a roar of tormented anguish that echoed through the destroyed Nursery.

 _Peter would pay_. Sirius swore as he held his children close and murmured reassurances to them, handing them off to Hagrid and loaning the friendly- _magic resistant, highly formidable_ \- Half-Giant his motor bike to get his children to Poppy for medical treatment.

(It was the wrong choice.)

* * *

Petunia Dursley screamed when she opened the door and found her niece and nephew on the doorstep.

* * *

Harry Potter was a strange seven-year-old.

He had a temper, for one.

His Aunt and Uncle had tried to beat him down, but the more they pushed the more he pushed _back_. It had come to the point where he had manifested strange fire that had dissolved the door to the cupboard.

They had tried to intimidate him or Lis extra hard after that, but Harry had made sure to stay one step ahead.

(For all that he struggled in school, he was _smart_.

So what if he slept in class? He had to stay awake to make sure that Uncle Vernon didn't get the bright idea to drug him and lock him in the basement again. The man had only tried that _once_ , but it had been enough of a scare to make Harry distrustful on principle.)

Lis was more thoughtful and quiet. Actually she rarely ever spoke, relying mostly on head-tilts and eyebrow-quirks, but even _she_ seemed strangely detached from the Durselys and the thought of them being 'family'.

So it was, that Harry was sitting propped against the wall in the smallest bedroom, idly playing with the locket that he'd had for forever. Lis was drawing on some 'recovered' paper with some 'recovered' supplies in front of him, and the say was pretty quiet.

(The Dursleys generally left them alone nowadays save for the spurts of time where they went _stupid_ and forgot the general pecking order. Not that Harry was ever anything less than _vigilant_.)

Harry was startled when the locket 'clicked' open quietly.

 _What the-?_

* * *

Harry- _or Xavi_ \- was _really_ _happy_ that he wasn't Dudley-stupid right about now.

Of course, his mother had been brilliant and there was magic in the world, so could he truly be anything less than extraordinary?

Apparently, he and Lis _both_ had four parents. They had their mother- Lily; their Da- James; their Dad- Sirius Black- who was either dead or MIA; and then they had their respective 'progenitors'.

Xavi's was a man named Xanxus from Italy, and Lis' was a man named Kawahira.

Mum had even included drawings of the men- apparently she'd been something of an artist. He had called Lis over and had explained _\- as best as he could to the four-year-old_ \- about who the people in the pictures were. Thankfully, Mum had included pictured of her and Da as well.

As he put Lis to bed that night and prowled around to check the perimeter, Xavi tried to let the information fully sink in.

Eventually, he came to the conclusion that it beat the hell out of only having the _Durselys_ as family.

Now Xavi just needed a plan.

* * *

Trying to learn a foreign language _sucked_.

 _This is for Lis and Mum and Da and Dad_. Xavi told himself as he tried to breathe through the temper tantrum that wanted to erupt. He was tired, cranky, and hungry- but he knew it was just going to get harder from here on out, so he took control of his temper and started sounding his way through the book again.

* * *

Xavi was eight and Lis was five when he decided to take her and _run_.

Uncle Vernon had been acting increasingly shifty and Aunt Petunia had been sniffing about 'those freaks coming to fix their mess'.

The young Potter hadn't wanted to know what his horrid relatives had planned.

He had known, intellectually, that street life was going to be hard, but it was both harder and easier than he anticipated.

Harder, because they no longer had a steady place to sleep and no access to school. Easier, because Xavi was already used to watching over Lis when she slept and fighting for the barest scrap of respect.

Xavi knew that their fathers might not want anything to do with them, but at least it gave them a goal.

"Italy, Lis?" He asked his baby sister as he crouched down in front of her and tied her shoes for her.

Lis shrugged. _I don't care_.

"Italy it is then." Xavi muttered as he tried to think of a way to get here without getting caught and sent back to the Dursleys.

* * *

In the end it was an interesting tale of ferry rides, clever stow-awaying, and quick thinking that helped them cross the English Channel and France.

Xavi also learned how to read maps, what a franc was, and how to curse in French.

The biggest boon that had allowed them to slip into Italy was that school had recently let out and there were people everywhere. So it was just a matter of looking like they belonged.

Which was easier said than done, considering their lack of proper facilities and all.

Still, when they arrived in Turin, Italy, Xavi felt accomplished.

As they stared at the people milling about and the wide blue sky above them Xavi allowed himself a single moment to relish in his victory of making it to Italy without getting caught before he slipped back into survival mode.

"Ok, so we need to find somewhere to sleep and a way to keep learning. We'll end up dumber than _Dudley_ if we quit school now." Xavi muttered to himself.

Lis shot him a thoroughly disgusted look. _Hell, no_.

* * *

Surprisingly it wasn't hard to find a place for them to stay- they found an old church that was run by a group of sisters who seemed entirely happy to help out the children of _Italia's_ streets.

The siblings didn't stay there every night, but they did stop by often. Sister Cristiana and Sister Federica were delightful ladies, despite their Order being small and it being just the two of them most of the time.

Xavi and Lis also made sure to assist with whatever chores they could- though Xavi would restrict how much he allowed Lis to do. He had also found- much to his consternation- that although she still didn't really like to talk, Lis loved to sing.

Sister Federica, especially, delighted in teaching Lis old Hymns and worship songs, so that is how the children refined their Italian.

When the school year rolled around, Xavi was shocked that the sisters had gotten them enrolled in a local public school.

He was suspicious, of course, but they hadn't actually done anything except show him and Lis kindness. They also hadn't called the _Policia_ or reported them as runaways.

"Thank you, Sister Cristiana, Sister Federica." He told them seriously on the first day of classes.

"Sometimes," Sister Federica said thoughtfully, reaching out to ruffle his hair and then hugging Lis. "Our paths are harder than we'd like them to be, but they pay off in the end."

Xavi would never forget her words.

* * *

Despite the fights and bullying and his general surliness, Xavi made the top five in his class rankings.

(He still wasn't ever going to apologize to that Matteo jerk for punching his lights out when the jackass had made Lis _cry_. Xavi didn't care _who_ the little punk was related to.)

* * *

Lis' sixth birthday came and the sisters had to take a journey to meet up with others of the Order in Rome.

Since the children were on holiday, the sisters decided to take Xavi and Lis with them.

* * *

Tivoli was just outside of Rome, and being in Varia territory it was fairly well-behaved from an underworld perspective.

However, occasionally someone stupid came in and decided that the Varia were just a myth and tried to take over.

Which was what was happening, and why Squalo was here busting heads instead of back at HQ trying to find a way to _unfreeze his damn Boss_.

The Sword Emperor grunted as he impaled another idiot and was a bit peeved when he looked around and realized that he was fresh out of prey.

Shrugging nonchalantly, the Varia Commander wiped his blade off on one of the idiot's shirts and whipped out his phone to call for a clean-up crew.

The line had just been picked up, " _Squ-squ_?" Came Lussuria's voice. " _Did you take care of them already_?"

But Squalo wasn't listening, his phone was nearly cracking under the strain that he was putting it under.

" _Squ-squ_?" Came Lussuria's voice again. There was a few moments of silence before, " _Squalo_?"

"Lussuria." Squalo forced out through his suddenly tight throat, "Get me surveillance footage for about a quarter of a mile away from my current position, to the west. Last hour too. It's not- _**VOI**_!"

" _Superbi!_ " Lussuria voice was uncharacteristically sharp.

"I'm feeling Wrath Flames, dammit! Like Xanxus' but not quite. They don't have the edge that his does _and I don't fucking know why_!" Squalo roared as his feet finally unfroze themselves and he started running in the direction he could feel the Flames originating from, snapping his phone shut as he did.

Lussuria was Varia Quality, he'd get the damn picture.

* * *

They'd been walking down the street in Tivoli when they'd been attacked.

Xavi hadn't even _considered_ hiding his strange powers from the Sisters when their and Lis' lives were on the line. He'd shoved Lis towards them and launched himself towards the attackers without pause.

He took a glancing bullet to the shoulder, and a knife wound to the thigh that was pretty nasty, but he'd live.

It wasn't until it was all over that he'd turned and looked at the Sisters and he'd realized that-

 _They could be like the Dursleys and they could_ _ **hate**_ _him and Lis and-_

"We need to get moving before someone comes for them." Sister Federica told him calmly as she gently steered him away from the scene.

"Don't you- I mean-" Xavi stumbled over his words.

Sister Cristiana gave him a singularly unimpressed look. "Child, we are but servants in this wonderful world. Who are we to judge those who the Creator has made by His own hand?"

"I think I might have killed that one guy!" Xavi burst out wildly. "I-"

"Defended the innocent." Sister Federica told him stoutly as she and Sister Cristiana guided them back into the crowds and shielded the children with their bodies. "The world is not so black and white, dear. You shouldn't judge yourself too harshly. The fact that you acknowledge that you ended another life and feel sorrow means that you are not a degenerate."

Lis reached out and grabbed a hold of Xavi's hand, and it wasn't until then that he got it.

He hadn't just randomly attacked and killed somebody- he'd defended his _family_.

(Xavi was still pretty sure he was going to have nightmares though. He'd never lost control of his Flame-magic that badly before.)

* * *

Squalo burst onto the scene and scowled heavily at the downed bodies and milling nuisances at the mouth of the side street.

The downed idiots were from the same group he'd been hunting, and of the five of them, two of them were dead.

The Varia Rain would recognize that Flame Pattern _anywhere_ , even if it was a little different.

His phone rang. "What?"

" _Bad news, Squ-squ_!" Lussuria's voice was tight over the phone. _"That side street's Varia surveillance was taken out about three hours ago, closest I can get you is a three block radius."_

Squalo cursed. Fluently. " _ **VOI!**_ Do it! Whoever it is has Wrath Flames for sure!"

Lussuria's breath caught, _"Is it-?"_

"No, way too soft to be Boss." Squalo assured the Varia Sun. "But maybe a sibling?"

" _Squ-squ, Boss was an entirely healthy male before he was frozen, and even he went through a period of time where he was jumping beds._ " Lussuria's voice was wry.

"Really?"

Lussuria's voice sounded amused, _"Yeah, he settled down really abruptly about a year before the Cradle Affair, but for a while before that it was pretty bad."_

"Wow." Squalo said in befuddlement. "I just have a hard time picturing our hard-ass Boss as a bed jumper."

" _You would_." Lussuria was _definitely_ amused now.

" _ **VOI!**_ The fuck is that supposed to mean you damn ookama?"

" _Nothing, dear~! I'll get to work on that surveillance triangulation_!" Lussuria sang brightly as he hung up.

* * *

*May 1977 – Two Boeing 747s collide over the Canary Islands, killing everyone onboard both planes.

* * *

 _ **Please leave a review on your way out!**_


	11. Solid Ground (KHR-HP)

This story is a hybrid of ideas given to me by the amazing **InsaneScriptist** , please direct some love her way if you enjoy it.

(Although all the plotholes, typos, and spelling errors are mine, unfortunately. Editing is _not_ my strong point!)

Starts out very Harry-centric, but will shift as the story progresses- if it progresses.

None of my muses are actually cooperating right now, I apologize for the silence.

I'm primarily a reader anyways, I don't know where all this writing nonsense is coming from.

Please enjoy this tidbit!

(Also, the summary is my worst to date. Oi vey.)

* * *

 **Solid Ground**

* * *

 **Summary:** Harry decides to take his destiny in his own hands and becomes his own man. This changes his fate. However, changing his fate was only the beginning, and now he has a shadow peeking over his shoulder, and this changes his shadow's fate. A lot can change when you've got your feet planted firmly on the ground, especially when there's someone there to pop your head when it starts to swell too much.

* * *

Harry Potter had done an immense amount of soul-searching and growing up since the end of his Sixth Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It was as if watching Professor Dumbledore die at the hands of Snape had irreparably shattered the little world he'd tried to hide himself in since he'd learned of magic and Voldemort and the Prophecy.

Suddenly the simmering rage that had been bubbling in the back of his mind had been quelled and he could hear himself _think_.

It was strange, he'd decided, to be able to think clearly after so long.

Harry had retreated to the Astronomy Tower once everyone had settled down from the attack and pondered his next course of action.

He wouldn't be coming back here, obviously. The sixteen-year-old let out a bitter laugh, the late Headmaster had apparently seen fit to settle the weight of the population of magical Britain on his shoulders, so Harry would be traipsing around the countryside looking for these Horcruxes, and now that Dumbledore was gone it was only a matter of time before Voldemort started operating brazenly.

"Harry?" Hermione called hesitantly,"Are you coming to the Feast?"

The green-eyed boy turned to his best friend and smiled, their time together had been fun, but Hermione had been jealous over a book this year when he'd had valid concerns over Malfoy being an actual Death Eater. Furthermore, there was no need to involve her on this fool's errand. "Yeah, I'm coming, Hermione."

He'd just have to stop relying on the brilliant witch and do his own legwork.

* * *

Harry was thankful for Dobby, and Sirius.

The _Fidelius Charm_ on Number Twelve was broken, but Harry had had Dobby take his blood and smear it on the door like Sirius had instructed, so now the Wards had officially reset to Harry. The Order had freaked out, and Harry had acted clueless when they had grilled him about the Wards shifting, so according to them, Grimmauld was lost- which made it a perfect place for Harry to stash his supplies.

The little elf had managed to get Harry camping supplies and a number of things from Gringotts- including information about Sirius Black's Will, which had gotten the green eyed boy into Bellatrix LeStrange's Vault, on the off-chance that Bellatrix had been entrusted with an item, after Kreacher had been forced to inform the duo that 'R.A.B.' had been the late Regulus Black.

(Kreacher had been more than happy to track down Dung's pilfered goods as well, and since it kept the treacherous cretin busy, it made _Harry_ happy. He hadn't entirely forgiven Kreacher just yet, but the elf had sworn loyalty because of Harry's intent to fulfill Master Regulus' last request.)

Dobby had also been busy moving portraits, (unfortunately the portrait of Sirius' mother wouldn't budge), so that they couldn't spy, as Harry had remembered the portraits reporting back to the Headmaster that night that Sirius had died and he'd learned about the Prophecy.

The elf was also taking out sums of money at regular intervals and having it converted to muggle pounds or just stowing it at Number Twelve in case Gringotts ever became inaccessible.

* * *

Harry sat in his room at Number Four and tried to plot out his next course of action.

Most of this had occurred while he was still at Hogwarts, as Harry had known that he hadn't had any time to waste. He had also snuck down to the Chamber of Secrets and nabbed a few, (disturbingly well preserved), Basilisk fangs and sent them off with Dobby, so he had a viable way to end the wretched abominations once he could get free from the Order and his Trace broke.

It wasn't that he was anti-Order, he just didn't want anyone else to die for him or because of him. He wasn't a hero, a saint, or damn messiah- he was a teenage boy who was stumbling around in the dark like an idiot with a fucking parasite in his head.

That had been an unpleasant realization.

Once he'd stripped away everything and looked at the situation clearly, it was obvious what his end was supposed to come to- death.

 _Figures_.

* * *

He'd told his Aunt goodbye and left a note for the Order, grabbing Dobby's hand gently.

"Let's go."

* * *

The Cup and the Locket were gone. The Diary was destroyed in Second Year. Professor Dumbledore had gotten the Ring.

Harry was certain that he was a Horcrux, and that Nagini was one- so that was five.

So what was the remaining one?

It had been three days since he'd left Privet Drive- and about thirty-six hours since his majority- and he'd made sure to have the elves burn most of his clothes and things that he wouldn't be needing, just in case of tracking charms.

Time to hit the Black Library and put some Black Family tracking prevention into play.

* * *

Hedwig was not enjoying her stay at Grimmauld Place, but it was better than Number Four, so Harry hadn't heard her complain too much.

He now was warded against just about every class of tracker he could find existed, Post Owls included, so he felt safe enough to have Dobby take him across London to get decent glasses and some clothes he could move around in without tripping.

* * *

Harry had learned more in the two months that he'd been staying at Number Twelve, (only leaving long enough for self-assigned 'missions'), than he'd learned in Six Years at Hogwarts.

Of course, he had plenty of motivation- what with his face being splashed across the front page of the Prophet as 'Undesirable Number One' and everything.

The more the press vilified him, the less he felt guilty for leaving everyone behind.

Everyone had always been trying to protect him and they always died instead- it was his turn, he'd do this on his own terms.

Now, the Legend of Ravenclaw said something about a crown…..

* * *

So, Harry was pretty certain that Ravenclaw's Diadem was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, because the man was an egomaniac like that, but Harry also had a sneaking suspicion that he'd need to think about things carefully because if Voldemort was smart he would have hidden it in Antarctica under a _Fidelius Charm_ or something, but the man was possessive and arrogant, so it might be somewhere obvious, like Hogwarts.

Which was under Death Eater control at the moment.

 ** _Fuck_.**

* * *

Harry had gone to Professor Dumbledore's tomb to say his final piece, and he'd found a snitch that had apparently been left to him in the last Headmaster's Will buzzing around. Actually he'd walked right into the damn thing in a parody of his first Quidditch Match and the Resurrection Stone had popped out of the stupid thing.

(He knew this because he had been turning the Stone over in his hands and thinking about Sirius and Sirius' Shade had appeared and they'd chatted for a few minutes before Harry had forced himself to release his Godfather's spirit before he forgot that _Sirius didn't belong with the living any longer_.)

After that Harry had taken the Headmaster's wand on a hunch, (he'd read 'The Deathly Hallows' at Grimmauld Place, and Dumbledore had been a ridiculously powerful wizard), and had made his way up to the Castle under the Cloak.

Luna Lovegood was one of the oddest, bravest, most brilliant girls on the face of the earth and no one would _ever_ convince him otherwise. Within minutes she had found him, (when he'd passed a half a dozen Death Eaters posing as Professors), and dragged him towards the Grey Lady.

Or, _Helena Ravenclaw_.

It wasn't one of Harry's most elegant conversations, but apparently whipping out a Basilisk fang and promising the Lady that she could witness the destruction was enough to grant him the information he needed, and barely three hours after he'd entered the Castle the Diadem was a smoking heap, and Voldemort was very nearly mortal.

* * *

November, Harry decided tiredly, was a shitty time for an epic battle.

Voldemort had apparently felt the destruction of the Diadem and had converged on Hogwarts, Harry having ordered Dobby to charm a Basilisk fang to drill through Nagini at the earliest, clearest opportunity.

Which just left Harry and Voldemort to face off against each other, just as it had always been.

Harry had a plan though, and just beyond the Wards, (the attackers hadn't managed to break through), he grabbed Voldemort and _Apparated_.

* * *

Dobby watched the green light hit Master Harry Potter and snapped his fingers, causing the Basilisk fang that was still slick with the blood from the Dark lord's snake driving itself through the man's head cleanly.

The little elf was horrified as the body broke apart and vanished, but he padded over to his fallen Master's side.

A House Elf is a being of Magic, and Dobby's Bond hadn't snapped yet, so his Master wasn't truly gone- not yet at least.

Dobby took his Master's hand and took them back to Number Twelve, leaving only the Dark Lord's robes in that clearing of the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

Harry returned to consciousness slowly, more annoyed than he cared to admit by his, (former), Headmaster's appearance in the In-Between.

…..only to find out from Dobby that the magical world had been losing their collective minds in the day he'd been unconscious.

"Seriously?" He muttered into the tea Dobby had brought him on the breakfast tray, "I defeat the Dark Wanker and now they can't decide whether that's a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Sorry, sirs." Dobby said sadly.

Harry shook his head, "Not your fault Dobby. People are _stupid_."

* * *

Harry ended up spending about a full twenty-four hours at Gringotts straightening out his affairs, and that was with him having spent a full week writing up the initial plans while still holed up at Grimmauld.

He had plenty of things that he wanted done, (with the money that he hadn't truly acknowledged he'd had up until now), and he wanted to make sure that they were done _properly_ while he was pulling himself together and trying to figure out _where in the hell he was supposed to go from here_.

Which was why he now had a Representative, a magically-binding one who was professional and damn good at his job.

Granted, with all the work Harry had just dumped on the man, he was paying him a King's Ransom, but if he got even half of what Harry wanted accomplished accomplished, then it would be money well spent. Also, the Magical Oath that Harry had crafted was incredibly stringent and the man hadn't batted an eye before swearing it, despite the sheer amount of paperwork being Harry's Wizengamot Deputation would entail. Oh, Harry wasn't being heartless or reckless, because Mr. Auberon had an extended amount of family who would soon go from the edge of bankruptcy to comfortably employed as long as they took the Employment Oaths, which was Harry's only condition besides aptitude.

Investments and ground-breaking business models were calculated, money was appropriated to various causes and new enterprises. Principally Harry set up his magical assets to run without much direct input from him as he had _zero_ desire to stay in Britain now that he had played his part like a good little boy.

Potter Manor had been destroyed back during the First Blood War so that had taken up a lot of his attention- as he wanted that restored, and the Black Properties had been sorted quite sharply in Harry's favor, with Goblin upgrades going in over the next year.

Of course, he did make provisions for those that he considered family. He also had to deal with the hassle of having a bunch of other estates that were either Bequeathed or Conquests, so _those_ had to be sorted through and planned for as well, and a lot of them had living members and other issues that would require personalized dealings and oversight- hence the need for a reliable Representative.

(A part of him nagged that he should actually _contact_ the Weasleys or Hermione or Remus, and that he was being a _shitty human being_.

The rest of him was just _damn tired_ and wanted to be able to live his damn life without an entire world looking over his shoulder and telling him what to do, even if they thought it was what was best for him.)

Harry shook Mr. Auberon's hand and accepted the Gringotts Register and Gringotts Secure Post Key, (to the Gringotts Secure Post Box that his house elves could check for him), that they would use to communicate unless they needed to schedule a face-to-face meeting.

"Well," Harry said wryly as he turned to leave, "See you around."

The man smiled gently, "'Not all who are wander are lost, all that is gold does not glitter.'* Mr. Potter."

The teen looked startled for a moment and then he grinned, "I like that. Thanks Mr. Auberon. Grapplehook."

Goblin and wizard watched the young Man-Who-Conquered leave.

"I hope that young warrior finds a worthy tribe." Grapplehook commented idly as the Goblin shuffled a pile of parchment.

"Mm. I hope he finds a measure of peace, old friend. He has tired eyes."

"Indeed."

* * *

Harry spent the next month property hopping as he tried to decide what to do next.

That wasn't to say that he wasn't _busy_ , as he was inundated with paperwork of all kinds from Bryan and Grapplehook.

(Two people can only go through so much paperwork together before they decide to be on a first-name basis.)

Business proposals, Bill Proposals, Wizengamot Transcripts, Estate Affairs, _Marriage Contracts_ , newspapers- basically if it could be put on paper, it ended up on the desk that Harry was using that day.

As he rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation and jotted down another note _about not wanting to see another marriage contract ever again_ , (he was pretty sure Grapplehook was only forwarding them to piss him off- bloody Goblin humor), he came to a conclusion.

Harry Potter needed to go back to school, because he obviously missed the lessons on _how to manage a freaking empire_ back in Hogwarts.

Harry paused mid-stroke and stared at the wall for a moment.

 _Actually. I should probably take my NEWTS. Maybe get a Mastery. I'm the last of my family so I need-_ Harry paused and stared at the wall a little harder, his green eyes narrowing behind his new, lightweight glasses as his thoughts took a deeper turn.

 _Wallburga blasted a lot of people off the Tree without them actually being disowned. It's why no one knew that Sirius hadn't betrayed Mum and Dad despite him taking the Godfather's Oath- because Grimmauld hosts the Animate Family Tree, the others are just replications of it. Meaning that his picture was already burnt, so no one questioned the Trees, thinking Magic had burnt his Twig from his supposed betrayal. Sirius was only Lord Black because the other Main Line Blacks had died out and the Family Magic rejected Draco's claim when Malfoy Senior took him after Arcturus' death, as the Black Family Lordship was in dispute._

Harry jotted down a note to Bryan, _I need a spell or potion that will heal a Animate Family Tree so I can see if I have any other living family members that I should be taking care of. Wallburga Black damaged the Animate Family Tree terribly. Potter Manor is too damaged for me to make it inside to check that one, the Elves say the charms are unstable and the Goblin Craftsmen concur._

* * *

Harry had found that he was terribly behind in his nonmagical subjects, and opted to find tutors for them as opposed to trying to go back to school.

So, time passed and the paperwork slowly decreased, (slightly, they finally got through the bulk of the Death Eater Trials), and Harry decided that Switzerland was a nice enough place to settle for a little while.

His tutors were from the Switzerland Magical Society, and while they were friendly and accepting they were also entirely unsympathetic as they piled onto his workload mercilessly, as Switzerland believed in a ten-year magical education that included nonmagical subjects such as Business Management and Magical Exploration, which was basically Magical Science.

It was nearly March before he remembered about wanting to take his NEWTs and he was slightly irritated at the thought of having to enroll in a school just to do so, but Bryan had laughed, (through an inanimate object), and told the young Potter that he was scheduled to take his Internationally Acknowledged Comprehensive Wizarding Education Assessments, (IACWAEs) in August.

Which sent Harry into a frenzy of studying because those tests were _damn hard_. They were _Internationally Acknowledged_ for a reason.

Harry knew he wasn't _supposed_ to, but he abused the hell out of Wit Sharpening Potions between March and August.

Hey, he had homework for the last half a decade of nonmagical schooling that he'd missed, homework for his magical schooling that he'd missed or just hadn't been there to begin with, and all of his paperwork to complete.

* * *

Harry held his letter with slightly trembling hands and tried to steady his breathing.

He was back at Grimmauld and his IACWAE results were inside the envelope he was holding while the spell-Potion combinations were at work on the Family Tree, and he was just as nervous about seeing his results as he was about finding previously unknown family members.

Apparently Wallburga had done so much damage to the Tree over the years she had used Dark Magic to sear people off of it without the Lord's consent, that just spells or Potions wouldn't repair the Tree, it had nearly needed a ritual.

 _C'mon Potter, where's your Gryffindor courage_? Harry tried to joke to himself, but it fell flat, even inside his own mind. It was moments like this that Harry was reminded that he was truly _alone_. Oh, he had his elves and his employees, but he didn't actually have anyone else.

Part of that was by choice, of course, as he had voluntarily cut ties with the people from his old life, but he also wasn't the same boy he had been and he was quietly terrified of going back to being either the _desperate orphan_ or the _raging lunatic_.

Harry took one more fortifying breath and popped the seal.

* * *

" _The International Confederation of Wizards Academic Examinations Authority, (ICW AEA), administered the Internationally Acknowledged Comprehensive Wizarding Education Assessments, (IACWAEs) to one Harry James Potter under the Special Exception Clauses between 3 August, 1998 and 7 August, 1998._

 _The Assessments were administered in Belfort, Switzerland, by a multi-national group of educators. None of whom hailed from Mr. Potter's home country or had any prior contact with him or his family and were under Magical Oath to be impartial in their academic judgments._

 _IACWAEs standards supersede the regional OWL and NEWT testing requirements for any country that participates in the ICW, and can be submitted to any ICW participating Ministry, ICW facilities or subsidiaries as proper Credentials for Employment Consideration._

 _Results for Harry James Potter:_

 _(IACWAE Scoring:_

 _ **E**_ _\- Exemplary knowledge of theory and exemplary demonstration of the practical aspect: highest score in category._

 _ **T-**_ _Admirable grasp of theory, with lackluster results in the practical portion of the exam: above average score._

 _ **S**_ _\- Superb demonstration of the spell casting or practical aspect, but lacking in the theory portion of the exam: above average score._

 _ **A**_ _\- When added to a score, this drops the exam grade down a level. For example: 'TA' would be someone who passed the exam mostly on their theory score, with poorer practical results. The 'A' lowers the score from 'above average' to 'average'._

 _IACWAEs are awarded up to 'AA' levels due to their difficulty, as the 'below average' standard is still above most of our participating countries' median graduation requirements. Anything below an 'AA' is simply a 'failed' score and no IACWAE is awarded.)_

 _Transfiguration_ _:_ _ **S**_ _, IACWAE Awarded_

 _Charms_ _:_ _ **E**_ _, IACWAE Awarded_

 _Potions:_ _ **SA**_ _, IACWAE Awarded_

 _Herbology_ _:_ _ **SA**_ _, IACWAE Awarded_

 _Astronomy_ _:_ _ **SA,**_ _IACWAE Awarded_

 _Magical Proficiency_ _-_ _ **E**_ _, IACWAE Awarded_

 _(Score is decided from the three separate examinations. Individual scores are directly underneath.)_

 _Spell Theory:_ _ **SAA**_

 _Defensive Magic:_ _ **E**_

 _Offensive Magic:_ _ **E**_

 _Operational Knowledge of Nonmagical Culture_ _:_ _ **E**_ _, IACWAE Awarded_

 _Care of Magical Creatures_ _-_ _ **SA**_ _, IACWAE Awarded_

 _(Score is decided from the three separate examinations. Individual scores are directly underneath.)_

 _Creature Theory: SAA_

 _Applied knowledge: SA_

 _History_ _-_ _ **SAA**_ _, IACWAE Awarded_

 _(Score is averaged from the three separate examinations. Individual exam scores are directly underneath.)_

 _Ancient/Old World:_ _ **SA**_

 _Medieval/Statute-era:_ _ **SAA**_

 _Modern:_ _ **SA**_

 _Congratulation on your nine IACWAEs!_

 _The ICW AEA Examiners_ "

* * *

Harry stared dumbly at the parchment in his hand, knowing that by now Grapplehook and Bryan were receiving their own copies as he had broken the seal on the original.

That…

…..couldn't be right.

 _Nine IACWAEs?_

He'd barely passed his OWLs!

The IACWAEs were _tough as hell_. Almost _legendary._ There was no way that he, Harry Potter, had passed nine of them.

They were the toughest non-Mastery tests in the magical world!

 _How?_

Harry stumbled back and plopped himself down in convenient chair.

 _There had to be a mistake._

* * *

Harry was jolted out of his stupor by Dobby calling for him.

"-ster Harry Potter sirs!"

Harry shook his head and blinked rapidly, "Huh? Sorry Dobby, what?"

The little elf looked at Harry worriedly, "Master Harry has been sittings theres for three hours, Dobby and Kreacher bes gettings worrieds."

Harry smiled at the little elf, "I'm fine Dobby, I just….passed, is all."

Dobby's whole face lit up and he started babbling about Harry's greatness and food before popping out.

The black-haired teen shook his head in bemusement and stood, stretching as he made his way towards the study. Grimmauld had become more of a home throughout the time that Harry had been using it, mostly through his spellwork and the elves' efforts.

The colors were far cheerier, though they were still muted hues, and Harry had finally convinced Kreacher to move the portrait of Wallburga to the room with all the other portraits- which had the added bonus of keeping them empty as no one wanted to hear the woman scream.

Harry finally made it upstairs and sat down in the desk chair and fished out his Register. He was surprised, but delighted, to see the congratulation from Grapplehook and Bryan. They both recommended releasing the results to the public, as a lot of the naysayers to Harry's more radical business models and Bills were using his education- or lack of- as a selling point in their arguments. Especially as Harry hadn't been spotted since that brief moment during the Battle of Hogwarts- which had turned into more of a Death-Eater-Roundup after Harry had made off with Voldemort.

He hummed as he remembered giving Luna Lovegood an interview back in Fifth Year, and then the help the girl had given him when he'd gone to search for the Horcrux.

Harry's grin was sharp as he penned his reply. _I'll do an interview with Luna Lovegood, the Prophet and other publications can run it a day or so later. Actually, Bryan, make her my official Press Agent, other than you so people can't make up fake interviews again._

* * *

Luna was still one of the oddest, bravest, most brilliant girls on the face of the planet, but the interview had gone swimmingly.

The lithe little blonde had smiled dreamily at him, but her eyes had been strangely intense when she'd thanked him for ending the war so early.

Harry had no idea what that meant, but the hug she'd given him before she'd left was one of the best hugs he'd ever received.

Just before she'd pulled away she'd placed her lips next to his ear and whispered _, "Not all who wander are lost, but that doesn't mean that you must wander alone_."

* * *

Harry stood in front of the Animate Family Tree in the Lineage Room of Grimmauld Place and frowned heavily.

Well, this needed investigation.

* * *

 _Harry-_

 _From what we can gather, Bellatrix Black graduated from Hogwarts two years early in 1968, marrying Rudolphus LeStrange immediately afterwards._

 _From what we've been able to uncover- thanks in no small part to your Conquest of House LeStrange and our subsequent access to their diaries- her daughter was born in 1970. In 1981, the girl did not receive a Hogwarts letter, and Madam LeStrange tortured the girl terribly._

 _The girl was being raised by her paternal grandparents in the LeStrange property in Southern Italy when this occurred. Actually, the girl spent most of her life at this property and with her grandparents, from what we've gathered. At some point Madam LeStrange was called away by the Dark Lord and someone in the household took the girl and dumped her on the streets of Southern Italy with absolutely nothing._

 _We have located her, as per your request. She is a sex worker in the slum and she has a young son._

 _Her mind is mostly gone, Harry, and it is doing the boy no favors. He seems to be about 7 or so._

 _How would you like for us to proceed?_

 _-Bryan_

* * *

Harry shifted awkwardly as the boy stared at him distrustfully. "I'm Harry Potter-Black, and I'm your cousin. I'll be taking care of you and your mom from now on."

Granted, Harry didn't blame the boy for being distrustful as his mother was currently sedated in the next room, being seen by a professional Healer, while Bryan stood off to the side. Harry imagined that all the other males the boy had seen had probably been 'clients' of his mother, so having this many adult males, (the Healer was a woman), in the room and talking to him was probably a new experience.

It probably didn't help that they were obviously foreigners and not speaking Xanxus' native tongue.

Fortunately, the Black Family was nothing if not fully stocked on useful enchanted items. So while Xanxus spoke mainly Italian with some English and French curse words thrown in, and Harry only spoke English, they were able to communicate thanks to the translation device sitting between them. The device translated their words as they left their mouth, making the person on the other side's brain perceive them to be in the pre-programmed language for that side. Harry's was English and Xanxus' was Italian.

Harry had made sure to have the device _thoroughly_ tested before this conversation however, and the device only had about ten languages programmed into it. The Italian it used had had to be updated, as well, so it definitely wasn't a permanent solution, but it would work until Harry could learn the language himself.

The boy scoffed derisively, "Why would you do that?" His voice was fragile, though. Still too young to hide the longing for someone to _give a damn_ about him and his mother's plight.

The teen blinked bemusedly, "Because you're my _family_. Family is supposed to take care of each other." Harry gave the boy a haunted, sad half-smile. "I just found out about you guys because I had to take care of some stuff, but I'm here now and that's all that matters."

Xanxus' red eyes seemed to scrutinize him, still distrustful but not quite as hostile.

Harry suddenly grinned, "You have a last name now, you know. It's Black. Xanxus Black, of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

* * *

 _ **Please leave a review on your way out!**_

Also, here's to **IS** keeping me honest...


	12. Little Death Goddess (KHR-HP)

Fem!Harry! The explanation for her name is a note at the bottom.

Also, is it me or is FF randmonly eating divider lines?

― **~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

 **Little Death Goddess**

― **~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

 **Summary:** Ament 'Kitty' Potter had always been scared of her brand of different. She doesn't want to be a freak, she just wants to be her! Can an entirely unexpected companion make her feel comfortable in her own skin?

― **~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Ament 'Kitty' Potter had lived with her Aunt, Uncle, and cousin for as long as she could remember. That is to say, she knew she had arrived at their house in November of 1981 and it was now 1990, so _essentially_ her entire life.

The Dursleys weren't particularly _pleasant_ people. They made her sleep in a cupboard and she had to wear either Dudley's old clothes or the horrid floral-patterned _monstrosities_ that her Aunt Petunia picked up at rummage sales. (Her relatives were always telling whoever would listen that they were trying to make sure she grew up to 'appreciate hard work and the value of money', unlike her thoughtless parents. Somehow, this meant wearing clothes that were far too large for her, but everyone on Privet Drive seemed to approve of the method.)

She cooked breakfast and most of dinner, did far too many chores for a child her age, and had to endure long, prolific tirades about how much she was like her 'wastrel parents' and how lucky she was to 'have a roof over your head'.

She wasn't like, a slave, or anything. Ament simply wasn't allowed to be a kid and play, though. There was always something that needed doing or she was to sit quietly in her cupboard while the Dursley family relaxed in the evening, if all of her chores were completed. On the rare free afternoons or mornings that she had, she loved to hide out in the Surrey library, reading books about magic and fairytales that were considered contraband in the Dursley household.

It was her quiet little way of rebelling without actually getting into trouble.

Her cousin had tried to start a game called 'Kitty Catching', but fortunately she was a _girl. E_ ven her Aunt- _who seemed to live within a delusion wherein Dudley Dursley was a sweet, kind child_ \- had been forced to reprimand her precious Dudders, as hitting a girl was frowned upon, regardless of her reputation.

One of the things she liked most about herself was her name, but her relatives called her Kitty and other than the first day of school, everyone else did too.

Ament liked her real name, it was something different and exciting in the simulated fabricated perfection that was Privet Drive and the Dursley family. However, every time someone actually called her 'Ament' instead of 'Kitty' her Aunt would go white with rage and stiffly inform the person to address the young girl as 'Kitty'. Afterwards, Ament would spend the next week listening to Aunt Petunia make cutting comments about how Ament's mother had _obviously_ not had any sense, as her name was only suited for those who worked in 'unscrupulous professions'.

(When she was locked in her cupboard at night, Ament chose to close her eyes and dream about having wonderfully quirky parents who simply had vivid, marvelous imaginations.)

Still, she had a decent enough life. Ament always reminded herself that things could have been worse- she could have been born a _boy_.

At least as a girl she was looked at much more closely, which meant that her relatives fed her well enough- _albeit_ _begrudgingly_ \- and her glasses were the correct prescription.

Ament _loathed_ the fact that she had to keep her deep red, nearly black hair short, though.

Her Aunt pounded on the cupboard door and the girl sighed as she readied herself for another dull, boring day.

― **~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Alternate Dimensions are a _fascinating concept_.

Everything that could be different or changed from seemingly innocuous decisions were an amazing thing to behold and no one knew this more intimately than Byakuran Gesso.

There were some events, however, that transcended time and space.

Events such as the sealing of the Mare Rings by the Arcobaleno.

So even though fourteen-year-old Byakuran held the Sky Mare Ring, it was still only possible for him to use it while he was asleep due to the fact that that particular event affected all the Mare Rings, across all dimensions.

As previously mentioned, Alternate Dimensions are all at least a little different from each other. In this particular dimension, Giotto never disbanded the Vongola militia, so Elena never died, which meant that Daemon Spade never went insane, so Giotto stayed as the head of the Vongola Organization much longer.

Ricardo, Giotto's first cousin, never became Secondo. Instead Ricardo formed the Varia to complement Alaude's CEDEF organization, which allowed Giotto to firmly lay the foundations of the Vongola.

Federico, Giotto's son, became the Second Boss of the Vongola when he was twenty. Giotto moved to Japan shortly thereafter.

So while the Vongola still _existed_ , it hadn't strayed too far from being what Giotto had wanted it to be- meaning while the Vongola dealt with the Underworld, they were not truly _Mafia_. Oh, if someone started a fight, the Vongola would finish it- but they also worked with the police when they deemed it necessary and had many legitimate businesses.

The Giglio Nero Association and the Simon Company were their closest partners, of course. However, since the Vongola never descended into the legacy of sin that it did in most dimensions, most Flame users were not strictly criminals. Most were simply employees of one of the aforementioned companies, and while they _could_ use their Flames to fight, most of the time there wasn't an actual demand to do so.

The Flame users were perfectly aware of the magical society hidden among the masses, but they preferred to keep themselves separate from them as the magicals tended to be bizarrely insular. The number of magical conflicts was also very worrying for the business giants. It also really didn't help matters that _most_ of Vongola and their associates' business took place in the nonmagical world.

To keep from being discovered and manipulated and/or threatened, the Flame users had divisions of their companies dedicated solely to doing business with the magicals, (whose employees were magical themselves). These divisions were named differently and entirely separate from the 'parent' company, in order to further distance them from any 'muggle' associations.

Yet, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Byakuran had been given the Mare Rings when he was twelve, and he was retrospectively thankful that they had been sealed only a few months afterwards, as the pressure from tapping into them- even by accident when his Flames flared- was _exhausting_.

Still, only being able to use his power when he was asleep was kind of annoying.

The white-haired preteen flopped down onto his bed with a sigh. His illness was acting up again, and Italy was _disgustingly_ hot this summer.

It didn't help that Byakuran was carrying the Mist Mare Ring as well as the Sky Mare Ring right now.

While the only 'true' Mare Ring owner currently in possession of their Ring was nineteen-year-old Kikyo, the other were being held by trustworthy subordinates of the Gesso Corporation.

Unfortunately they didn't have anyone trustworthy enough to hold onto the Mist Ring, so Byakuran was stuck carrying it until they found someone.

The strain from holding them both caused Byakuran's chronic illness to flare up more often, but it was better than having some moron getting ideas for world domination into their heads.

Byakuran groaned and burrowed further into his comfy bed, kicking his shoes off and idly mentally debating the effort to undress versus the desire to sleep.

He drifted off before he could make a decision.

― **~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Ament _knew_ that she'd closed her eyes while sitting under the maple tree inside her hidden little alcove in the Surrey Park just moments before.

However….

This was _definitely_ not a dream she'd ever had before.

She was in a town, but not one she'd ever seen before, and there were people _who were on fire_ doing the most _amazing_ things. Right in the streets!

The red-haired, green-eyed girl looked around in awe, drinking in the _inventiveness_ and _unnaturalness_ with childish glee. A slow, pleased smile curled at her lips and she gave a small giggle as she raced after the black-haired boy with the sword.

The two combatants were speaking a foreign language, but Ament didn't _care_ as she watched the boy spark fire from his ring and put it in a box, only for the box to spit out a bird that was _wreathed in flames_.

"This is the best dream _ever_!" Ament whispered excitedly.

"Hm, who are you?"

Ament whirled around at the sound of someone actually speaking to her, in English though it had an accent that she secretly found charming, "Who-who are you?"

The white-haired teen with the pretty violet eyes and upside down purple crown-thing tattooed under his eye just looked amused. "Ah-ah~! I asked first!" The boy was dressed in an unbuttoned white button-up shirt with a black undershirt and black pants.

He looked really awesome to Ament. Totally put together but in a self-assured, casual way that would make her relatives hate him.

"I'm Ament, Ament Potter. What are you doing in my dream?"

The teen hummed contemplatively. "I'm Byakuran Gesso. I'm not in your dream, little death goddess, you're somehow in mine."

Ament blinked, "Little death goddess? My name comes from flowers, it's just a little different is all."

This just seemed to amuse the strange teen. "Ament is also an Egyptian death goddess. Well, she can represent fertility as well. Usually her name is Amentet, but Ament is a common disambiguation."

"Wow, I had no idea!" Ament babbled excitedly. Her name was _so_ _awesome_! "But, are you sure you're not just part of my imagination?"

The boy closed his eyes and tipped his head back and he laughed. "No, I'm very certain that you're in mine, little death goddess."

Ament crossed her arms and huffed, "What makes you so sure? You're probably just a figment of my imagination anyways" The girl's shoulders drooped a bit as she finished her statement, and she looked down at the ground, scuffing at the pavement morosely.

Byakuran's eyes narrowed as he took in her posture and general appearance. "Nope~!" He belted out cheerfully, lifting up the hand that held the Mare Sky Ring and thrusting it into her line of sight. "I have a magic ring you see!"

"There's no such thing as magic!" Ament said quickly, her head snapping up as she quickly glanced around for any sign of the Dursleys. (It was an ingrained reflex, dream or not.)

"Oh?" Byakuran murmured thoughtfully, quirking an eyebrow. "And who told you that?"

"My _family_."

"You don't sound like you like them very much." Byakuran rejoined blandly to the girl who was once again looking down.

"They're-well, they're my Aunt and her husband and their son. I'm an orphan so they took me in, they're not bad really- just really obsessed with normal."

Byakuran scoffed, "Normal is boring and _dull_."

"Exactly!" Ament replied exasperatedly as she looked up at him and waved her hands around for emphasis. "I live in Boringville Village, England! It's-it's-"

"Stifling? Irritating? Excruciating?" Byakuran offered gamely.

" _Precisely_!" Ament burst out in hearty agreement. There was a moment of silence and then they both laughed. "T-thanks!" Ament said as her giggles wore down. "I needed that."

"Ah-hn. Anytime." Byakuran told her. "But I am curious as to how you ended up in my dream."

Ament bit her lip and idly played with the hem of the castoff shirt she was wearing. "I don't know. I fell asleep under the maple tree at the park."

"I'm taking a nap, too." Byakuran informed her glibly. "It's hot as hell in Italy this summer."

"Oh!" She said excitedly. "You're from Italy? I've always wanted to visit, but the Dursleys never take me with them when they go on holiday. 'Waste of good money.' They swear. But when I grow up I want to visit _lots_ of different places!"

Byakuran nodded in agreement, "Traveling is a lot of fun. By your accent, I'd say you're British."

"Yup!" She sighed sadly, "I'll probably wake up soon. I wish you were real. It'd be nice to have a friend."

The Gesso heir laughed lightly. "Well, since you need proof, what is your telephone number? I'll call you."

Ament brightened for a moment before she sagged in disappointment. "My relatives would never let me talk to you. They'd probably deny my existence, actually, then I'd get in trouble."

"Hm." Byakuran hummed noncommittally. "Well, what's your address then? I'll send you a letter."

Ament laughed, "You're not supposed to give out your address to strangers!" She sing-songed brightly, but her eyes held a sort of desperate hope that reinforced Byakuran's private thoughts about her living situation.

"Ah, but you're not supposed to invite yourself into other people's dreams, either." He countered reasonably. "So really, it's the least you can do."

"I guess I can't argue with that." Ament laughed. This really was the greatest dream ever. "Ament Potter, Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England." She wrinkled her nose slightly, "You'll have to look up the postcode, though. I always mess it up."

Byakuran laughed again, but before he could say anything Ament disappeared. "Hmm." He mused thoughtfully as he tapped his chin with his index finger. "This has been quite the intriguing nap. I wonder how she ended up here. This is a memory from a parallel world, after all. How exciting."

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Ament woke suddenly to a wasp crawling on her cheek.

After she'd properly freaked out about it and run away, she took the time to think about the strange dream she'd had. She really hoped-

 _ **No**_.

Ament closed her eyes and pushed the fuzzy feelings she was experiencing down into a distant corner of her heart and mind.

She knew better than to believe in fairytales.

The young Potter resolutely made her way back towards Number Four and tried to think of anything else but white-haired boys and magic fire.

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Okay, so maybe Ament wasn't _quite_ as cool, calm and collected as she'd like to think.

But, just in case, (even though she hadn't seen the boy again in her dreams- not that she'd been _looking for him_ , of course!), Ament started to get the post in the mornings without being prompted. It gave her time to desensitize the Dursleys to it, so maybe wh- _if_ her letter arrived she'd be able to sneak it into her cupboard without them noticing.

Not that she was actually hoping that the weird figment of her imagination could possibly be real.

(You know, because then the strange things that happened around her sometimes when she got really angry or scared wouldn't be quite so terrifying to think about. For all she disliked the Dursleys and their obsession with 'normal' there had to be a reason why they were so scared whenever one of the 'incidents' happened, right? If they were simple, explainable circumstances they'd never be so harsh with her- she just _knew_ it.)

So, Ament went through her normal routine- plus the morning post-gathering- and tried to not think about how _disappointed_ she was each morning when there was no letter for her.

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It had been nearly two weeks since the incident when it arrived.

Sitting there on the floor of the Dursley entryway, right on top of the pile, was a black envelope with whiteish-silver writing.

And in loopy, elegant letters was her name.

Ament grinned excitedly, as a happy, stupidly hopeful feeling bubbled up inside her chest.

However, she was quick to snatch up the post and tuck the letter into her waistband as she heard Dudley thunder down the stairs.

The great thing about wearing clothes that were _far_ too big for her was that no one was likely to notice her precious cargo before she found time to slip it inside her cupboard.

She delivered the post to Uncle Vernon and quickly slipped out of the room to dart inside her cupboard and tuck the letter under her ratty mattress before scampering up the stairs to use the loo.

Hopefully that would keep her Aunt- the most observant person in the household- from being suspicious.

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Ament's day dragged by _excruciatingly_ _slowly_ , but eventually she found herself inside her cupboard for the night.

Being the overly-paranoid person that she was, (she spent _far too much_ time watching Aunt Petunia derive somewhat credible gossip from the smallest details), she grabbed one of her old schoolbooks to use as a shield before she retrieved her letter.

She reverently traced her name on the cover of the envelope, savoring the way it was written so beautifully.

Ament smiled radiantly and tried to tamp down the inane urge to _cry_.

It was _real_.

The boy from the dream was _real_.

 _She wasn't alone._ _ **There were other freaks out there**_.

Ament hiccupped quietly and quickly wiped her eyes before any of her traitorous teardrops could mar her beautiful envelope.

With shaky hands she flipped the envelope over and smiled at the name on the back.

Byakuran Gesso.

What an _awesome name_.

She gently pried the envelope open, trying to do as little damage as possible.

The stationery was lovely. It was white, high-quality unlined paper that had flowers imprinted in the background with elegant silver and black edging. The ink that he'd used to write with was purple.

" _Little Death Goddess,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well! Italy's post sometimes takes a while, so I hope you receive it shortly!_

 _Italy is still far too hot, but it is supposed to rain soon. I actually am not as used to the weather as most of my contemporaries, as I lived with my mother, (my parents are divorced but still get along quite well), in Japan until last summer._

 _I'm the heir of my father's company, you see, and their agreement was that when I graduated from middle school, (in Japan middle school starts at age twelve and usually runs until ages fifteen or sixteen- I graduated a little early), that I would move back to Italy for high school so that I could start learning to run the company._

 _It's not so bad. I miss Japan, especially my friend_ _Shōichi_ _Irie. But I'm also having a lot of fun learning all sorts of new and exciting things when I'm not stuck in hopelessly boring business meetings._

 _Well, I hope that this reaches you in a decent timeframe!_

 _Most sincerely,_

 _Byakuran Gesso_ "

Ament read the letter about a hundred times, even when she could recite it from memory her eyes roved over the words.

Eventually she sat back and began to scheme.

 _I clean Dudley's room on Saturdays while Aunt Petunia does the weekly disinfecting of the loo. I ought to be able to scrounge up enough change to buy the postage I need, but I'll have to filch an envelope and proper writing supplies from somewhere_. Ament took a deep, excited breath as she plotted out her new scheme.

Usually she wouldn't dream of taking money that wasn't hers, but she really wanted to write Byakuran and it wasn't like she hadn't earned the pence, right? It wasn't as if she was stealing large amounts of money or anything, it was just whatever Dudley had left lying around his room.

Ament looked back down at her letter and a happy grin lit up her face.

 _Byakuran was real_.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall of her cupboard as, for the first time, she actually tried to reach for that strange feeling that sometimes flared through her.

After all, if it could turn that ghastly teacher's hair blue or make her ride the wind to the top of the school's roof that one time that Dudley had been 'Kitty Catching', then maybe she could train it to unlock her cupboard?

She'd never reached for it before because it scared her, but now that she knew that Byakuran was real- that she wasn't alone- well, maybe she could embrace her freakishness properly.

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Ament's tenth birthday passed with little fanfare, but she had managed to send a letter to Byakuran.

The young Potter was suddenly _drowning_ in new ideas and projects.

There was the training of her 'tingling feeling' to unlock the door to her cupboard, and her sudden desire to improve her handwriting, (Byakuran's handwriting was lovely).

Her friend was also from Italy and had lived in Japan, so now she was desperately curious about those countries and their languages.

Her free days at the library were suddenly even shorter!

Ament was proud of the bit of subterfuge that had gotten her a library card, though.

Since Dudley was allergic to academics of any kind and she was a girl, all she had to do was make sure her books were tucked under her clothes on the way home from the library and she didn't have to worry about him damaging the books.

Fortunately, no one ever went inside her cupboard.

Though she had decided, on a strangely chore-free day, that just because she had to live in the cupboard didn't mean she had to live with the bugs. She'd dragged everything out of it, (her letters from Byakuran safely ensconced inside her old textbooks), and thoroughly cleaned it. Ament had even washed her mattress and taken it outside to dry in the sunshine.

Aunt Petunia had looked at the items cluttering the hall disapprovingly, but had let her be.

Ament had vacuumed and swept and then used warm water and Murphy's Oil Soap to scour the inside. Aunt Petunia had even lent the girl a fan so that the inside would dry quicker.

(Her Aunt had muttered about mold and brats, but had actually started dinner by herself so that Ament could finish her project. Ament figured that was as close to approval as she'd ever get.)

Once her cupboard was properly dry she dragged everything back inside and reorganized things.

Standing there, in her freshly cleaned living space, Ament was quite proud of herself.

Of course, she quickly made her way to the kitchen to help her Aunt, so that she wouldn't get into trouble.

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Ament's sudden desire to clean her cupboard wasn't entirely on a lark.

Yes, she had wanted to get rid of the spiders and other nuisances, but she'd had a bigger plan in mind. The cupboard under the stairs was actually sort-of spacious for someone of Ament's size if she arranged it just right.

Before she'd been happy just getting by, but now that she wasn't scared of herself she suddenly felt as if it was okay for her to do more than just _exist_.

Ament had learned the bare basics of sewing from her Aunt, as part of laundry duties was darning socks. Ament took a few of Dudley's discarded shirts from the laundry over the next few weeks and painstakingly patched them together so she'd have a covering for the underside of the stairs. She couldn't nail it up there or anything, but with some ingenuity she made do with preexisting nails or proper toeholds.

(Aunt Petunia had allowed her to keep the small darning set that was missing a few needles a few years back. The shirts had holes that were large enough that even Aunt Petunia wouldn't force her to wear them, so her Aunt didn't really mind her using them. Ament's excuse for wanting to cover the stairs was that she didn't want her hard work to go to waste, which Aunt Petunia had surprisingly approved of, so that was a fair bit of luck.)

This little project was just so she would stop getting sawdust rained down onto her when Dudley thundered across the stairs, however, it also allowed her to move her mattress. This created a neat little niche for her to hide her most precious possessions, as she tacked an extra shirt onto the stair covering that hung down and framed her mattress.

She doubted that anyone who hadn't spent as much time as _she_ did inside the cupboard would notice that the stairs didn't actually end there, but about a foot and a half back.

This left the front part of the cupboard, (the area immediately in front of the door), open for her schoolbooks and whatnot. However, as the stairs sort of obscured her in her new position, and the cupboard door opened outwards, it would give her an extra few moments to hide her letters if she ever needed them.

(Ament was also pleasantly surprised to find that she actually got a bit of a breeze, as the attic fan seemed to forced air down the wall. She'd never noticed it before.)

That project took her into August, and once she'd finished it, she could start on the next part of her scheme- which was getting proper writing supplies.

Ament had gathered a fair bit of money from Dudley's carelessness, as the boy never truly appreciated how much money her had lying around his room. Ament made sure to only take a little at a time and put the rest in Dudley's 'Pocket Money Jar' so no one would suspect her.

There was a store called Poundstretcher just a little off the path to school that Aunt Petunia always sniffed at for being 'low class', so that was where Ament headed instead of the library one afternoon just before school was due to start up.

Ament found a cute stationery set, some writing utensils, and a few other bits and bobs that was within her budget.

Getting them back to the house and into her cupboard had ben nerve-wracking, and since Dudley was rarely where he said he'd be, she'd had to hide in some bushes for almost a quarter of an hour, but she'd made it.

Putting her new treasures away in her cupboard had been exhilarating, despite the fact that she really didn't like stealing the money that she'd used to buy them.

 _Ah, well, can't have everything._

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Byakuran Gesso greatly enjoyed his little penpal.

Oh, sure, she was a little girl but she was _fascinating_.

He'd try to sneak off and see her, but the Arcobaleno and the Vongola Ring Bearers were all aware of what his future alternate self had done, so he was under close watch whenever he went out. It would lessen in a few years when he was past the age that his 'other self' had started really moving and shaking things, but they were all jumpy for now as he was still a student and had free time.

Because he'd _obviously_ use his free time to plot to take over the world the same way he'd already lost doing so.

 _Plebeians_.

But at any rate, his little penpal was absolutely charming and he was ever-so-glad that he'd met her- even though they hadn't shared a dream since.

(He really wanted to know why and how that happened, too!)

Byakuran suspected that Ament was a witch, but he didn't want to tell her that when there was always a chance that her relatives could intercept her mail.

That was an annoying little obstacle.

Still, from her accounts, she mostly suffered from casual neglect- which was hurtful and wrong but staggeringly _infuriating_ to prove.

So, no real way to rush in and rescue her without causing himself a whole host of headaches.

Byakuran pouted briefly before he picked up and reread over her latest missive. He felt a spark of pride as she detailed using his suggestions to help improve her living conditions.

Ah, well, he _did_ love challenges.

― **―** **―** **―** **―** **―** **―** **―** **―** **―** **―** **―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Ament continued to work on her 'tingling feeling' and writing letters to Byakuran over the course of the next year.

She was stumbling her way through Italian, trying to write sections of her letters in the language, only for Byakuran to send her next letter with corrections from her previous one.

Still, she was learning to read it, if not speak it.

Her grades had actually slipped, since she was so focused on learning about Italy and Japan and whatnot. This, sadly, pleased her relatives, and had the happy side-effect of her getting more free time.

(Ament didn't really question the Dursleys anymore.)

The young Potter was grateful for her work with her 'tingling feeling' that spring though, when the Dursleys actually had to take her along to the zoo and she'd found out that she could speak to snakes.

Dudley had come up and shoved her out of the way and she'd managed to redirect the burst of _it_ just in time. She didn't know what would have happened, but judging from the breeze it stirred up, probably nothing _good_.

Of course, her whole world tilted precariously about a month before her eleventh birthday, when she'd gone to get the post and found a letter from Byakuran and a strange letter with green ink on old fashioned parchment.

 _Ms. Kitty Potter_

 _The Cupboard Under the Stairs_

 _Dursley Residence_

 _What the bloody hell? How do they know where I sleep? Where's the postcode?_ Ament thought confusedly.

" **Girl**! Are you checking for bombs?!"

Ament started slightly and with a practiced motion slipped the two letters into her waistband. "Coming Uncle Vernon." She called as she padded obediently back towards the kitchen.

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 **Fem!Harry's name:**

Lily Potter's wand was made out of wood from a Willow tree. The 'flowers' that appear on Willow trees are called _catkin_ or _ament_. _Ament_ is from the Latin word _amentum_ and means 'strap' while _catkin_ is an old Dutch loanword- derived from _katteken-_ and means 'kitten'.

Also, the ancient Egyptian Goddess Amentet (also known as **Ament** , Amentit, Imentet and Imentit) was the consort of Aken (the ferryman of the dead). Her name means "She of the west". This was not just a geographical statement, although some scholars consider that she originated from Libya (west of Egypt).

As the sun set in the west, it was associated with death and the netherworld. The name Amentet referred to both the west bank of the Nile and to the world of the dead, and the dead were sometimes known as "westerners". Originally, Amenti (or Amentet) was considered to be the place where the sun set at the entrance to the netherworld, but the name was soon applied to cemeteries and tombs across Egypt.

As a goddess of the dead, Amentet is thought to have lived in a tree at the edge of the desert overlooking the gates to the underworld. She was often depicted in tombs and coffins, protecting the dead. However, she was also a fertility goddess. She met the souls of the recently deceased and offered them bread and water before ushering them into the realm of the dead. This sustenance revitalized them and prepared them for the rebirth of their souls and the trials they would face on their way to the "field of reeds" (paradise). ( **Totally borrowed from ancientegyptonline** )

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 **Please leave a review on your way out!**


	13. Blood in the Water (KHR-HP)

_**10/26: Updated this a bit, added some stuff.**_

 ** _There is a male/male pairing in this, (Xanxus/Squalo), so please don't read if such a thing offends you._**

 ** _Thanks!_**

* * *

 _ **Blood in the Water**_

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 **Summary:** Squalo died when Jager thrust his undead hand through his chest during the Representative Battles. The Varia SIC had no regrets- he'd done his damn job and saved his damn Boss. However, Fate has never been particularly kind to Squalo and he never should have expected his death to go smoothly.

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Superbi Squalo- at least that was what his Varia paperwork said his name was; only Xanxus boldly proclaimed his original name after joining the elite assassination squad- was absolutely certain that this was the end for him. Though he had a damn high pain tolerance, he could feel the agony creeping through his veins and wearing down his meticulously built-up defenses. The hand withdrew quickly and Squalo narrowly managed to throw his battered body sideways to intercept the blow his intuition told him was coming for his Boss.

He could hear Boss- Xanxus'- voice and knew that the man was likely throwing out all manner of threats towards him, but Squalo couldn't find the inner wellspring of steady strength that had always allowed him to overcome and overpower all of his other battles. He was in so much pain that it was mostly his battle-sharpened instincts that told him that their opponent was withdrawing his hand from the new hole that had been punched through Squalo's body. Tired in a way he had never been, Squalo still had a job to do- a promise to keep- and the Varia Rain recklessly pushed every ounce of Tranquility that he could manage out and through the limb that had wounded him.

 _Looks like you get to have a real fight, you damn Boss_. Were the last thoughts of Superbi Squalo as the offending limb fully withdrew and Squalo's battered body hit the ground. _Hah, guess Luss will have to be the Strategy Captain for real…..stupid….ookma_ ….

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 _I'm going to murder that marshmallow obsessed freak!_ Squalo muttered angrily to himself as he tried to make sense of the situation that he had found himself in.

He had died. As in dead. He was pretty sure that unrepentant assassins went to Purgatory in the very least, if not fully down to the very depths of the 'bad guy' section of the afterlife.

They were not supposed to wake up as five year old brats!

Or, more correctly, in the body of a recently expired five year old brat. Squalo had been through and seen enough crazy shit in the Mafia to not spend more than a half an hour freaking out about being inside a body that most certainly did not belong to him. His genius mind had gone over every plausible theory- from a malfunctioning Bovino/Crazy Ass Inventors weapon to interference from the Marshmallow Obsessed Bastard, (hence the threat), but after that length of time Squalo resigned himself to being stuck in this situation for the foreseeable future.

Having decided that, after the half hour he allowed himself to be confused and panic in an entirely un-Varia Quality manner, the man, (at least mentally), shoved all of his thoughts, hysteria, and theories aside and tried to organize his thoughts.

Which was how he had found out that he was in the body of a recently expired brat. One named Harry Potter, to be exact. Squalo's highly efficient mind quickly ran through the fact he had gleaned from the memories he had found- and he was outside of the acceptable freaking out time limit so he would not allow that panic to grip him, thank you very much- and what he was going to change now that he was- well, here.

 _Harry Potter, five years old, nephew to Petunia Dursley, nee' Evans. Was left with his maternal Aunt after an accident claimed the lives of his parents. Residence belongs to Vernon and Petunia Dursley, who have one offspring named Dudley. Harry is required to do age-inappropriate chores- even for a Mafia household- and has been deeply negatively impacted due to constantly being in a highly toxic environment. Had a cold recently, but was not given a reduction in tasks causing the body to become overstressed_.

That was as far as Squalo got before the door to the Cupboard- _Harry's 'bedroom'_ , his mind helpfully supplied- was pulled open and an old man who looked like he raided Lussuria's winter closet back when the ookama had gone through a '60's drug-themed wardrobe trend was suddenly in front of him. The fact that other than the clothes the man could have walked out of one of the Baby Boss' cartoons- he had long white hair, a white beard, and a pointy fucking hat- kept Squalo preoccupied just long enough to miss the stick- an actual knotty fucking stick- being waved at him before the body relaxed into unconsciousness.

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Squalo was in the frustrating position of being able to hear everything, but being unable to control the body he was in. Which meant that he could not see anything.

He had gathered that the cartoon guy was named 'Albus' and that he was a Headmaster of some sort. The other person in the room had been identified as 'Arabella' and the entire house smelled like cat. Someone had forced some vile concoctions down his throat and that was when Squalo's reality was once again turned onto its head.

 _Definitely going to murder that Marshmallow Obsessed bastard_. _No one else could possibly land me in a situation this fucked up_. Squalo murmured angrily as he glowered down at the small child in front of him. Vaguely Squalo sensed that the body was being moved, and soon it was once again inside the underneath of the cupboard that it had been in when Squalo had originally arrived.

Or at least that Squalo sensed and had gathered from what he had heard from 'Albus' and 'Arabella'. Something about some sort of 'potion' taking care of the 'splintergoit'- whatever the fuck that was.

However Squalo had other things to deal with at the moment.

"So you're Harry then?" Squalo asked the brat in the nicest voice he could manage. Considering that he had died before all of this shit had happened, he thought he had managed to keep his voice pretty level, but the brat still shuddered and curled in on himself. "Voi!" Squalo ranted, ridiculously happy that his sword arm was intact in this mental-sort-of-dreamscape-thing, (Squalo had met Mukuro and Byakuran so he considered that anything was possible at this point). "Don't curl up on yourself like that! Answer my damn question and look me in the eyes when you do!"

Green eyes glazed with fever, and too-pale cheeks flushed with sickness slowly came into view as the boy slowly lifted the messy black mop he called his hair and peeked up at Squalo. "I-I'm Harry." The boy in the far too big clothes whispered shyly, fiddling with the frayed ends of his overlarge shirt as he did so. The burning circle of sunlight they were standing in belied the boring patch of earth beneath them, neither of which made the boy seem any healthier than a skeleton. The darkness just outside the light set Squalo's teeth on edge, however.

Squalo grunted. "Great. Now-"

A cold chill swept through the mental-sort-of-dreamscape thing, but even as the whimper escaped Harry's mouth Squalo was already planted in front of him, sword drawn and grey eyes narrowed dangerously. Not a few seconds later the writhing darkness took the form of a man who was nearly as beautiful as Xanxus- Squalo tamped down and compartmentalized the fact that he was never going to see his Boss and lover again- only the red eyes of the…thing were entirely wrong. Squalo forced himself not to tense as the being smiled and began to spew out worthless promises of power- if only Squalo would stand aside and allow it access to the boy.

"Voi!" Squalo cut the thing off with a snarl as the brat whimpered and attached himself to Squalo's leg, small fingers curling into the fabric of Squalo's- thankfully pre-messy-death-battle- Varia uniform. "I don't know who the fuck you are or where the fuck you came from, but if you want the brat you'll have to get through me."

The thing's red eyes gleamed and once again darkness around the edge of the dreamscape-thing began to writhe as monsters from humanity's deepest fears began to take shape. The thing smirked cruelly, superiorly as its mouth stretched into something inhuman and it raised a hand- presumably to signal the attack.

"Brat can you hear me." Squalo muttered as he watched the army of monsters continue to multiply in the shadows that surrounded them.

The brat nodded against Squalo's leg.

"I'm going to drop my jacket onto you." The Varia SIC said quietly, not moving his lips. It was a trick that had served him well in the Varia, not allowing the enemy to read his lips had saved his life on several occasions. "Hide underneath it while I take care of this scum."

"Ok." The boy said quietly, and Squalo was impressed that the kid managed a decent whisper. Most brats his age had no idea what volume control was about.

Squalo dropped his jacket on the kid just as the army of nightmares attacked.

The army was fierce and vicious- truly a force to be reckoned with- but Superbi Squalo was the fucking _Sword Emperor_. Squalo's grey eyes stayed locked onto the inhuman thing as he elegantly cut through the horde of enemies that had been set against him. With all the grace of a dancer Squalo carved a bloody- _black blood? Fucking weird._ \- path directly to the main monster. The fact that this thing dared to have red eyes _\- the light in Xanxus' eyes when he fought for the Family; the smug shine in them when he forced Squalo to_ _ **stand still**_ _and_ _ **take notice**_ \- made something deep within Squalo seethe with _rage_ and in barely any time at all the Sword Emperor was bearing down on the thing that _dared_ to have his lover's eyes. The thing attacked Squalo, trying to get inside his head and muck around with his thoughts, but Squalo was a battle genius- born and bred- and he focused single mindedly on ending the treacherous fiend.

Squalo pushed forward relentlessly, absently noting the sunlight elongating and brightening the closer he came to victory. The barren earth beneath him began to resemble more of a forest than a desert the further he pushed his enemy back. Finally the thing was cornered, its back against the wall and Squalo raised his sword one last time-

 _A boy in an orphanage. A strange letter. A school. Collecting followers. Fearing death, huddling under the bed in his dismal orphanage miles away from the world he belonged in as the bombs dropped all around him. Graduation. A Locket. Traveling. I am Lord Voldemort. Pain, fear, and death, so much death. A woman with fierce green eyes and an insurmountable will. Her body crumbling to the floor. Turning his weapon upon her son. Pain. Agony. Disassociation. Survivesurvivesurvive_

-and drove it through his opponent without pause. Squalo slashed through the darkness until none of it remained, ignoring the pounding in his head as the thoughts- _memories?-_ burrowed themselves into his mind. The Varia Quality swordsman snarled and kept himself on his feet through sheer force of will as the happenings of the past day threatened to overwhelm him.

Squalo refused to let that happen.

Slowly he managed to force his body to comply with his demands and he made his way back towards the brat, pleased to note that the black blood seemed to be evaporating under the force of the sunlight. Squalo eventually made it back to the brat, who was shaking under jacket that Squalo had dumped onto him. "Voi! Brat! The thing is gone, you can come out now."

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Harry Potter was having the weirdest dream ever.

It was also one of his best.

After being sick for the past several days and still being forced to do his chores, his Aunt had taken pity on him and sent him to the cupboard early- meaning before Uncle Vernon and Dudley got home- with a small thermos of soup and a full bottle of water. Harry had drank some of the soup and sipped at the water until he had fallen asleep.

When he had next become aware he was in that terrifying dream he always had but never remembered, the one where he was in a circle of sunlight that seemed dimmer every time he saw it with the creepy darkness encroaching at its edges. All of his nightmares- particularly one with the high, cruel laugh and the sickly green light- were in that darkness. Harry intrinsically knew if it ever touched him, it would consume him.

Yet this time, there was someone else there with him.

A man was there with him, and he had long hair. He was taller than anyone Harry had ever seen in real life and was wearing a uniform that Harry was sure was against the rules of Privet Drive. The man hadn't yelled at Harry, and had even demanded that Harry look at him instead of the floor! Then the man had dropped his coat on top of the boy and had gone off to fight the darkness. Harry had hidden his whole body underneath the coat, but instead of it feeling wrong or shameful- like Dudley's castoffs felt- the coat felt _warm_.

Safe.

Just like how Harry had always imagined that a real father would feel.

So Harry had curled his fingers and toes into the coat, greedily trying to soak up as much of the protection and comfort that it could give him. He'd never felt so protected before!

Then the man was back and announced that the thing- _Harry's nightmares_ \- were gone and that he could come out now. But Harry didn't want to leave the coat behind! It was the best thing he'd ever experienced! However, he also did not want to make the strange man angry with him, so Harry firmly forced himself to poke his head out from under the coat as he crawled up into a sitting position, but he kept the coat firmly wrapped around him. "Will it stay gone?" He asked shyly.

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Squalo quirked an eyebrow at the brat. "I diced it into a million pieces, so it is as gone as it is going to get."

The brat smiled brightly at him. "Thank you, mister!"

"Squalo, brat. S-q-u-a-l-o."

"Squalo." The brat repeated obediently. Dark hair shifted as the kid titled his head to the side curiously. "What's it mean?" Then a horrified look overcame his face and the brat shrunk in on himself. "Sorry." He whispered.

Squalo rolled his eyes and firmly compartmentalized everything else he was feeling. "Just because my name means shark doesn't mean I'm going to eat you."

The brat giggled. Squalo glanced around- before remembering his situation- and cracked a conspiring grin.

Then everything around them rumbled and the dreamscape-thing shattered.

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Squalo had long since trained his body to not need much sleep to function. However, seeing as how he was a spirit- or ghost, but that was a creepy-ass thought so he'd stick with the former term- it seemed that he required about the same amount of 'sleep' to recharge.

Which was good, because Squalo needed the time between him passing out in exhaustion after the brat had disappeared to the brat waking up for him to explore his new situation. Not to mention needing time to deal with his own emotions and the memories that he had witnessed from both the brat and the thing.

The plane Squalo seemed stuck in was the same pseudo-forest that he had landed in yesterday once the brat had reappeared. Squalo assumed that magicals were like Flame Actives in that they did not truly expire until after the last vestiges of their magic dissipated. Case in point- Lussuria had, on more than one occasion, revived Varia members who were technically dead, but their bodies still held traces of the Flames. You had to work quickly, and there was still the matter of fixing what had caused them to 'die' in the first place, but it was possible to snatch a Flame Active from Death's jaws if their injuries were treatable enough and their Flames were resilient.

As he wandered around the meta-physical plane of the brat's consciousness, Squalo tested to see how much control he had over his new situation. He didn't want to cause harm to the brat- as this body was Harry's and Squalo was just renting space at the moment- so he didn't push his limits far enough to cause the brat pain. He noted that the sunlight from yesterday was now an even golden glow, casting light into all areas of the spiritual plain, and looking much steadier, if a bit dimmer that it had previously. There were a worryingly number of cracks and scorch marks along the edges of the field he found himself standing in and the further from the center- where the brat had huddled under his coat the day before- the more barren the ground, until it faded into black-ish white sand at the edges.

As far as he could tell, he was basically like a back-seat driver. The area that had formerly been housing the thing had shifted to accommodate Squalo, so instead of Squalo's spiritual presence wearing down and eventually smothering the brat's own spiritual presence, Squalo existed around him.

The closest Squalo could come to an explanation involved a glass of water an ice cubes. While one would think that a to-the-brim-full glass of water with ice cubes would overflow once the ice cubes melted, that wasn't the case. As long as the glass was left undisturbed, the melted ice would actually take up less room than the frozen ice. This was due to the fact that water expanded as it froze, meaning when it thawed- or unfroze- it contracted, therefore not taking up as much room and not overflowing the glass.

Squalo could feel the condition the brat's body was in, but instead of feeling it in a first-person manner- as he had when he arrived in this situation- the connection he held to the body was more of a second-person sort of thing. So instead of feeling miserable and sick kid like the brat felt, Squalo just felt irritated.

The Varia Rain had also found out, purely by accident, that he could hear the brat's conscious thoughts and subconscious mutterings if he concentrated or stood in certain points of the forest. Granted the brat was asleep right now, so there weren't really many of them and he could easily tune them out, but Squalo had no idea how long he had before the brat decided to wake up.

As an Esper, Mammon was a damn scary Mist, and since the tiny miser was on the Varia's payroll, the midget had ensured that all of the Officers had a sturdy grip on their own minds to prevent them from being taken advantage of by the likes of Mukuro Rokudo or copycats. Accordingly Squalo took a deep breath a set to work. "Sorry, brat." He muttered as he concentrated on his task, his long hair stirring as the breeze picked up as he forced the brat's slumbering mind to accept his will. "This is probably going to feel really fucking strange."

Before him, according to his iron will and mental focus, a replica of Varia HQ began to take shape. Squalo's brows furrowed and the wind picked up as he concentrated on every detail of the place.

The Headquarters was an old cathedral that had once belonged to the Church, but was taken by the Vongola after Napoleon declared war on neutral Venice and tried to take it in order to appease the Austrians. The Vongola, by that time, had already burrowed deeply into Tuscany, and the Grand Duke Leopold- Lampo's uncle- introduced many reforms that greatly benefitted the people, though they were ravaged by sickness and famine during much of his reign. Back to the point, Venice was spared the invasion of Napoleon during 1797, but when Primo disbanded the Vongola military forces, Venice was once again at the mercy of the invaders.

Once Italy was unified and the Vongola renewed their grip on things, the old cathedral was given to Ricardo's eldest son- who was far from comfortable in front of crowds as he had a speech impairment, but was _excellent_ in the shadows- who repurposed the building as a secondary fort for the Vongola. Eventually, the eclectic assortment of people who followed the eldest son were referred to as the 'Vicocaro', and eventually this nickname evolved into 'Varia', and stuck. It was towards the end of Secondo's reign that the Varia were formalized as a sub-Famiglia, but to maintain their secrecy and anonymity the Varia operated quasi-independently from the Vongola. Until Vongola Nono, however, the Boss of the Varia had never been acknowledged to the wider Mafia world, so most thought the Varia were a new organization.

Squalo shook off the historical tangent and instead focused harder on his construction of Varia Headquarters. From the way the Storm division always smelled faintly of Bel's crappy tea and burning stone, to the way Lussuria's division was an explosion of color that hurt his eyes some days. Lightning Division was essentially one giant shrine to Xanxus with more lightning-themed paraphernalia than Squalo ever wanted to know existed, but it also held most of the Varia's tech, due to Levi's division being responsible for keeping their tech from being sabotaged. Cloud division's doors were Lightning-Flame reinforced, and the division itself was bordered by the Rain's- Squalo's division. Mammon's division were in the furthest corner, far away from everyone else, as Mists had a tendency to push buttons, and it was always a good idea to have the training areas and Infirmary between them and the rest of the Varia.

Squalo grunted as he forced the grounds to materialize as well, as this endeavor was taking quite the amount of focus. _It's probably because the brat is so young._ Squalo thought as he slowly withdrew his will and made sure that his construct wasn't going anywhere. _Shit_. Squalo thought as he checked on the brat's physical condition. _He's got a bloody nose and one hell of a headache_.

Then the brat's eyes fluttered open just as the Aunt- Squalo knew from the brat's memories- pounded on the door to the cupboard.

"Up! Up!" She snapped irritably, the sound ringing through the brat's mind unpleasantly.

Squalo felt the boy try to move to comply, and stepped in.

"Let me take care of this, brat."

The boy's spiritual form appeared before Squalo and the Varia Rain cursed as he took in the kid's condition visually. "W-what?" The boy croaked out in confused apprehension, dark hair falling over his bright eyes as he tried to take in his surroundings. "What's going-"

Squalo knelt down in front of the brat and gently grasped him by the shoulders. "I'll explain everything after you get some rest."

The pounding came again and this time the door opened.

"Fall asleep, brat, I'll take care of this."

The boy nodded slowly and passed out. Squalo quickly conjured up a Varia underling to take the brat to one of the empty rooms in the Rain division. He would have preferred to think up Diluvio, his SIC, but he did not have the time and he was wary of doing any more major rearranging to the brat's mental landscape at the moment.

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The sensation of being in the driver's seat was disorienting, but Squalo managed. The full impact of how sick and how much of a headache the brat had was rather unpleasant, but Squalo's mind quickly sorted through those feelings and suppressed them. Fortunately, he was right in his theory that since Flames were of the soul, he could use his Rain Flames as long as he was in control. Squalo blinked a few times and noted that the harridan was screeching and reaching for him, but he was more than ready to deal with her.

Bright blue Flames sprang to life, their control a little wonky due to the young age of the body he was in, but they answered his call easily enough. He pushed as much of them out as he could without worsening the boy's condition, thankful that civilians could not see Flames unless their minds were able to comprehend the sight.

This woman, her husband, and their brat did not fall into that category. Squalo was a bit apprehensive that she would make the connection to 'magic', but was relieved when her eyes glazed over and she walked away without protest. Since the door was open and light was spilling in, Squalo could see the dismal surroundings that his new charge was living in and his temper spiked.

 _I'm getting him out of this damn cupboard, as soon as he is in a better physical condition._ Squalo vowed, gingerly venturing out of the cupboard and up the stairs where the bathroom was located, keeping a steady stream of Tranquility pouring out as he did so.

Once he had finished his- Harry's body's, whatever- bathroom break, he had raided the medicine cabinet- child's locks- pshaw!- before he went into the cousin's room and re-appropriated a couple of blankets and a pillow- one without drool. Fortunately, the cousin also had a small box fan that Squalo happily swiped- the air in the cupboard was _stifling_ \- and the man-in-charge made his way back down the stairs and stashed the items quickly. Squalo nipped into the kitchen and refilled the bottle of water and soup containers, grabbing a thing of crackers and some bread, which he wrapped in a napkin, as he did so. He also grabbed a butter knife, as he had noted the locks on the outside of the cupboard door. It took some creative threading, but he got the fan plugged in and positioned, the blankets rearranged before the body he was borrowing became too sluggish for him to continue.

 _I was afraid of that._ Squalo thought grimly as he stepped outside of the cupboard and pumped Tranquility into the walls. Painted wood wasn't exactly the _best_ place to store Flames, as they dissipated rather quickly, but Squalo's Flame Capacity and Flame Purity should keep anyone away from the cupboard for at least a few days. While Tranquility couldn't misdirect, like Mist Flames could, they could pervade a person's thoughts and make an area seem entirely uninteresting or unremarkable, inviting the mind to move on to the next task on the person's mental to-do instead of concentrating on the original task.

The boy's arms were trembling and his baby legs were threatening to give out by the time Squalo closed the cupboard door and laid down. _No matter how advanced my pain tolerance and mind are, his body is only that of a five year old_. Squalo thought as he closed his eyes and experienced another wave of disorientation as he stepped back and allowed the boy control of his body.

The Varia Rain made his way through the Varia HQ he had constructed, pleased to see that he had achieved the level of detail he had wanted. There wasn't anyone running around, so that made things a little strange, as the underling he had thought up had dissipated after accomplishing his task, but it was nice to be somewhere familiar after the crazy happenings of the past few hours. Squalo was pleased to see the boy laying in the room he had wanted him in and the Varia Rain set about making the brat comfortable before he allowed himself to slump in a nearby armchair in exhaustion.

 _I have to figure out how to explain all this shit to a five year old_. Squalo mentally lamented. _And I need to go through the thing's memories and see just what the fuck it was doing inside this brat's head!_

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	14. Silence of the Fall (KHR-HP)

**A/N:** This story came about as a Writer's Block challenge to myself. I wove several prompts from the awesomely amazing **InsaneScriptist** together and this happened. It starts rather outside-prospective-prose-ish and transitions after about a thousand words.

*shrugs*

It was mostly a writing exercise, but I thought I'd share. I wanted to write a story in which I kept the 'trio' together, but I needed to change them a bit so that I had something to work with. In case it's not clear in-story: Harry is a bit more jaded, Ron's family is causally cruel, and then Hermione's situation shatters what faith she had in the authority figures of the magical world.

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 _ **Silence of the Fall**_

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 **Summary** : A few changes can make a world of difference. A perceptive Harry, a more self-aware Ron, and a Hermione who wakes up to a tragedy. One thing is for certain, this Trio won't be anyone's fools!

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It hadn't happened overnight. There was no single fixed moment that was the point of no return. Rather there were thousands of little moments sewn together with another million mis-mashed just-slightly-out-of sight sneers that culminated into the set of circumstances that led to their rebellion.

In the beginning there was a boy raised in a cupboard, introduced to a magical world filled with pretty lights and freedom. Of course something so good obviously came at a price and this was no different: freedom from the cupboard in exchange for a lifetime of expectant servitude. Forever bound to be on the frontline, being besieged by friendly fire and enemy fire alike until nothing of himself remained.

He still accepted it, anything to get out of the grey he was constantly surrounded by.

He went to school and found two friends that first year: a boy who had nothing to call his own and a girl who had no place to belong. They banded together that year, through unlikely circumstances and against the odds and in the end they triumphed.

Yet the sweet taste of victory soured on their tongues. A bit more jaded and perceptive, the boy looked around and saw how they had not so much won as they had performed to the unspoken expectations of those who claimed to know him.

And everyone else in the room resented them for it.

Something cold and unpleasant slid down his spine and when he glanced over at his friends his horrified green eyes met grim hazel and bitter blue.

So perhaps that was the first strike.

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After a summer of silence and servitude there came a rescue.

But after ten months of almost-freedom and most of a summer spent in isolated captivity, it was much easier to see the bars beneath the subtle warmth and secret smiles.

(It was then that the boy with green eyes witnessed the casual cruelty in the Weasley home and he suddenly _understood_ how his blue-eyed friend had been able to be so cruel to the well-meaning but pushy girl last Halloween. It was simply an extension of the treatment afforded to him every day while under his Mother's roof.)

Green met blue and a heavy moment passed between them, a moment of camaraderie and shared burdens before they were jostled back into reality. Dinner passed in a blur of forced smiles and plastic laughs-

-yet it was a spark against the kindling that was their wills, lives, and yearning for something different, (better, perhaps; but at least a journey on a road they chose themselves).

That September when the Barrier refused to open for them, they merely took the Knight Bus to the Leaky and had the bartender, Tom, inform the appropriate people. Roughly three hours later Professors McGonagall and Sprout came to retrieve them.

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"I have an idea." Hermione told them as she settled down at their usual Library table, her books thumping lightly against the desk as she gazed at her two friends with frustrated, (determined) hazel eyes.

"Let's hear it then." Ron replied, stretching out his legs and leaning back against his chair, noting that he had grown tall enough that his trousers looked more like three-quarter length bottoms than actual full-length ones.

It had been several days since Hermione and the other victims of the indirect-Basilisk stare had been cured. Ron and Harry had been disgusted at how quickly the school had rallied back towards Harry once the information about the Chamber had spread. Hermione had been dealing with a personal tragedy and had been sequestered away from them most of the time, this was the first time they had seen her without one of her 'minders' since she had woken up, actually.

(And, they wondered who blabbed. For Harry and Ron had said _nothing_ and Ginny had been spirited away back to the Weasley home.)

"Well." Hermione said, biting her lip anxiously before waving her wand in a few, precise motions. The boys felt the magic wash over them, but merely looked at her with mirrored quirked eyebrows.

(Harry was still positively exhausted from the Chamber battle and was more than willing to just listen at the moment.)

"I have an Aunt." She said eventually, her eyes sharp as she regarded them both warily. "She's kind of different." She grimaced a bit and looked down at her hands, which were twisted tightly into fists, her robes nearly ripping at their delicate seams. "She has….acquaintances, however. Ones that could assist us."

Ron put his hands behind his head, resting them casually on the chair's high back but his tone was tight. "Really?"

Hermione nodded sharply and lifted her head back up so that she could look at them properly. "My parents _died_ while I was petrified." She growled fiercely, low and angry and vicious as the rage in her chest swelled as she thought about what she was going home to. "And the school didn't have the decency to special-order the cure so that I could attend the funeral." She took a few deep breaths and tried to will her wet eyes dry. "Because I'm just a _muggleborn_." She spat out viciously, trying to control her breathing so she wouldn't break down crying.

 **Again**.

She was _done_ crying.

The boys just watched her, eyes empathetic but knowing that she did not want nor welcome their sympathy at the moment.

She panted a little as she tried to wrestle her emotions under control. A few tears slipped out against her will, but she pushed forward anyways. "Because I, the inheritor of their estate, was not able to be contacted their house- my childhood home- has been sold and all of their things put into storage." Her robes tore a bit as her hands fisted a little too tightly and the seams finally gave way. Hermione very deliberately uncurled her fingers and purposefully placed her splayed hands against the worn wood of the table. "I am set to spend the summer as a guest with my parents' old business partners, whom know nothing of Hogwarts and magic and _think that I chose not to attend my Mum and Da's funeral_ because I was _studying_." Her voice trembled with suppressed fury and her tears dripped down her nose as she bent her head, hiding her expression behind her hair.

The boys let her cry a bit. Silent as her sobs were the two boys heard the suppressed fury and anguish all too clearly.

"I will spend the summer making plans and contacting my cousin, my question is: are you two with me or not?" She head snapped upright and she pinned both of them in place with a steely glare.

"I'm in. All in. If I can find a way to take my family's money with me, all the better." Harry told her in an even tone. "I'd like to help with your preparations, but I'll be working as a slave all summer." His smile was all teeth and jagged edges, but that assured Hermione far more than the false sympathy she'd been getting from everyone else.

"I-" Ron hesitated and looked down at his feet for a moment. "I want to be in." He said quietly, firmly. "I don't want to be 'Ron Weasley, that youngest Weasley boy' forever. I want to be my own man. I don't want to go back home and hate myself and my family because they make me feel unneeded, unwanted, _useless_." His fingers tightened against the chair and he met both of his friends' eyes steadily. "I want to be a steadfast friend, a fellow fighter- and I know I'll just keep sliding back into my old patterns if I don't find a way to carve out my own path." Ron's blue eyes turned pained. "I don't want to cause my family pain, but at this point we're toxic for each other." He admitted, his head lolling forward and his arms coming round to hug himself tightly. "I want to be something other than a jealous berk and an extra son. Even if I only reach the level of 'sidekick' I want it to be because I've earned that title by being loyal and faithful and being there when it seems like it's hopeless without faltering because of my own self-doubts."

"I can understand that." Hermione informed him briskly, wiping her tears from her cheeks impatiently and giving Ron a level look. "You've come a long way from that boy who made me cry in First Year, but I can understand what you mean when you say that you and your family are toxic for each other." Her brows contracted as she shuffled around her books and plopped two tomes in front of them. "But if you want out with us, you'll have to work for it." Her gaze was uncompromising as she glowered at the two of them warningly.

They glowered right back at her.

A grim smirk sprawled itself across her face. "Good. I'll make up the Magical Contract while you two get started on those. Take detailed notes, or you'll just have to re-read it all to get what we need."

Both boys exchanged tired glances but gamely cracked open the worn, overlarge tomes.

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Lal Mirch was a woman of many talents and lots of patience.

(Something she desperately needed to keep on top of Iemitsu's varying levels of stupidity.)

But above all things, she understood secrets and the need to keep them. It was why she paid Viper so damn much money to weave an illusion that made her look her actual age whenever she went to visit her family.

So when her newly-late sister's daughter called her, instead of giving the brat the tongue-lashing she'd intended to she fell silent and listed once Hermione mentioned one word.

"Omertá, Auntie Lal. I'm under something akin to Omertá, but I swear on _Nonna's_ Rosary Beads that I was not only unable to attend Mum's-" Her voice broke but Hermione shouldered on. "-funeral, but that I was not even given the knowledge of their passing until nearly two months after they had been buried." Hermione's breathing was uneven, but Lal held her silence and her patience was rewarded when Hermione continued. "The government that has me under an Omertá-esque vow also is oppressing my two friends. Both of them have untenable home situations, but for separate reasons. However, these people are incredibly backwater and there is not really anything we can do to protect ourselves."

Lal's heart started beating faster, bue her voice was even when she answered. "Mia?"

Hermione choked on a sob but she answered her Aunt's unspoken query. "I know. But it's that desperate, Auntie. _Please_."

"Give me their names, Mia."

Lal prayed that her niece was exaggerating, but for all her faults Hermione was incredibly pragmatic and not overly inclined to self-pity. Mia usually preferred action to wallowing, but Lal could hope.

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Lal's stomach twisted uneasily as she observed the home of Harry Potter.

 _This is worse than I thought_. She thought grimly as she watched the obese woman's dog chew at the unnaturally thin teen's ankles.

"Lal." Viper's voice came across the earpiece.

"Go ahead." Lal ordered sharply, in a massively foul mood after spending the better part of a month running into information blackouts and bad news.

"We have a situation." Viper informed her grimly. "You're going to want to sit down for this."

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Third Year ran by rather smoothly considering the Traitorous Rat had found himself in Viper's custody before term even started.

That year there was no notable difference in the grades of the three, despite the enormous amount of time they spent in the Library. Of course, no one knew what they were truly studying for and by the time anyone caught on, it would be too late.

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"Are you three absolutely sure?" Lal asked them one last time.

"I am." Both Hermione and Harry said resolutely.

Ron glanced over his shoulder with a rather heartbroken look on his face, but his jaw tightened and he turned to face them with eyes that held nothing but resolve. "I am. Let's go."

Lal smirked dangerously. "I give the orders now, brats."

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The thing about trying to possess a magical is that it usually doesn't go so well for the person doing the possessing. Even less so when the person already had the shard of another person living inside them and the possessor tries to use that as a point of entry.

Daemon Spade needed a way to get close to Iemitsu Sawada so that he could plot out his next set of moves, so the green eyed underfed brat in the CEDEF's Initiate Course seemed like as good as target as any, given the kid's closer-than-usual relationship with Lal Mirch. That the kid was underfed and not Flame Active meant that he'd never know the difference. Daemon leapt from the back of the mind of the person he'd been hitching a ride in and drove his essence into the cut on the kid's forehead, reasoning that it would be an easy point of entry.

That was his last mistake.

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Lal Mirch sat by the bed of the brat who had suddenly started screaming last week during Orientation and sighed. At first she was afraid that he'd lost it and would need to be dealt with, but then the medics had noted the strange reactions from around his scar.

The kid's head had needed to be retrained and they hadn't dared intubate him as he kept jerking and twitching as if he was fighting something. The still-relatively-new Thyme had done his best to try to understand the issue but had merely come back out of the room grim-faced and had told them that they would need to see what the boy was like when he awoke.

Which was why Lal was watching over him, because if he was insane when he woke up she would eliminate the brat and tell the others he died of organ failure.

It still tugged at her heartstring, to see the teen so pale, sweaty, and still struggling.

She hoped, in the deepest part of her heart, that the brat won whatever war was waging inside him.

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"Seriously, Basil?" Harry asked his blonde friend incredulously, nodding amiably at Hermione as they passed by her desk.

"Yes." Basil replied flatly. "He has me learning an archaic form of Japanese and tells me thing like 'they still wash their clothes in the river'." The teen's face remained as bland as his tone, but his level of dissatisfaction was readily apparent to his mission partner.

In the eighteen months since the near-possession and his battle for his soul against two madmen, Harry Potter had changed quite a bit. He'd grown taller, gotten Sun Flame-infused contacts, and had learned how to fight. He'd been given the oh-so-creative handle of 'Mint' and had been partnered with Basil for the better part of a year.

Hermione, who had been tagged with the handle Sage, worked with the Senior Secretary. While the position did not sound glamourous or important, those ladies did far more than answer calls and file away at their nails. As a matter of fact, without them the CEDEF would likely crash within a week, as their Boss had a serious tunnel-vision and follow through problems, so those ladies handed out Missions, kept everyone supplied, and generally kept the CEDEF as an agency afloat.

Ron had been tagged with the handle Cilantro and had been partnered with Tumeric. The red-head had also changed his hair color- opting to dye it a much darker red and add in blonde highlights in an effort to remain incognito.

Tumeric and Ron were long-range support types, while Basil and Harry were infiltrators and close-combat specialists.

Basil had originally used the Dying Will Pills in order to utilize his Flame. However once Harry had ordered and sorted all the memories left behind from his battle with Tom Riddle and Daemon Spade's souls he had gotten Lal to implement some of the original Vongola Flame training to decrease their agent's dependence on such things. Lal had also been rather cruel and unusual in making the newer CEDEF agents think of at least one new application for their Flame before allowing them to graduate from her Hell Training, (capital letters definitely needed).

Tumeric was a Mist and Ron was a Storm and together they were pretty unstoppable. Harry was a Sky, but they were very much keeping that information under wraps, so he mostly pulled out his Cloud Flames. He had a pretty good grasp on his Lightning Flames, and could somewhat use his Sun Flames, but the Cloud Flames came the easiest to him. Basil's Rain Flames were particularly useful in misdirecting people's attention when Harry was actually forced to pull out his full Flame, so they worked well together.

"I still don't understand why you don't call him on his bullshit." Harry told his friend as they made their way to the CEDEF office pool, an area full of cubicles and desks reserved for pre-op or off-duty teams to do their paperwork. Post-op paperwork was done in the 'Application Room' just off the secretaries' area so that the information could be promptly filed or acted upon.

Hermione had been a right _terror_ getting everyone to use her newly-instated system _properly_. But once they had gotten used to it, Hermione's streamlined templates had actually cut down on a lot of the unnecessary parts and had made the agents much happier. That the templates also helped the information coming in post-op flow instead of getting tied up in useless bureaucracy had also been much appreciated.

The two teens had just sat down at one of the desks, ready to kill some time before they were off-call when the building shuddered and the lights flickered.

Basil glanced up at the ceiling. "Well, that can't be good." He said mildly.

Harry rolled his eyes at his partner in long-suffering.

"Basil! Mint! Get your traveling gear on and get your asses down to the Garage! _Now_!" Lal's voice bellowed over the Mist-covered PA. What that meant was that anyone who was in the building who was not a CEDEF agent or did not have enough clearance to hear her heard nothing. The clearance that you were allowed was woven into the CEDEF token that you wore that was issued by the secretaries.

However, neither teen stopped to ponder the wonderful innovations of the Mists- even if Harry's never-actually-convicted Godfather Thyme was one of them- as they had no wish to give Lal cause to shoot at them.

With as brassed off as she sounded, she might just do so anyways.

Once they had made it to the Garage Lal scowled and shoved a box at them. "These are to be protected at all costs." She ordered. "The Varia are after them. They need to get to Iemitsu's brat in Japan yesterday. Understood?" Lal's lips were compressed into a thin, irritated line, but they both felt that it was not them that she was irritated with. "I'll cover you to get out of the Garage, but after that you're on your own, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am!" They both barked out sharply, Harry taking the box from her and taking the lead while Basil fell in behind him. Harry quickly selected the vehicle that was designated for their use- it had Mist Flames covering it that made them seem to be much older than they were to prevent them from getting stopped by well-meaning police officers- and slid in the driver's seat while Basil nimbly hopped over and quickly took up residence in the passenger's seat.

"The Varia, eh?" Harry muttered as he started the car and quickly backed out of the parking space.

"Right?" Basil said blandly, but the rather pronounced frown on his face was telling enough.

Once they were clear Harry put the car in gear just as Basil grabbed the handle. "Hang on, man!" Harry called as the sounds of Lal's favored rifle filled the Garage.

Harry put his foot to the accelerator and quickly ran through the gear, the super-sensitive steering allowing him to dodge all the nastiness the Varia had planned outside.

"Shit." Harry swore as he merged into traffic and Basil triggered the Mist Trap. (The Mist Trap was an ingenious little thing that made a mirror image of the car while the actual car changed color and seemed to alter its make a bit. It didn't last very long, but it might buy them a little time.)

By the time Hermione's text came telling them which plane they were booked on and which airport to go to they needed to backtrack- and they'd only been on the road for five minutes!

"I think we're the bait." Basil told his partner grimly, looking down at the contents of the box he'd fished out of his partner's jacket. "Iemitsu would never give the Vongola Half-Rings to anyone less than a Boss or one of the Arcobaleno. We're the fucking bait, Mint."

"Well." Harry muttered sarcastically as he spotted a tail and took up defensive action. "We always knew that our Boss was an arsehole. He probably views us as the lesser sacrifice in the grand scheme. Something major had to have changed for us to _need_ to be the decoys, though."

Basil snorted and put the box back in his partner's jacket and checked his own weapons. "Let's just hope that his kid has half a brain and we can look forward to Iemitsu's retirement once the Decimo takes over."

"Amen." Harry muttered as he triggered a few more Mist Traps and a RainShower. "But we have to get to Japan alive first."

"Ah, too easy." Basil chuckled, tossing his partner a cheeky grin. "After all, we've survived Lal's Hell Training."

Harry snorted with amusement and checked his watch before accelerating. "Hang on, Basil. This is gonna get bumpy."

"With your luck." Basil retorted over the roar of the wind, having opened the window to try to spot any additional tails. "Everything's an adventure!"

"I rese-" A shock hit the car and only the installed Lightning Shock Absorbers kept it from frying the car's systems.

"You were saying?" Basil huffed in badly-concealed amusement.

"Rain humor." Harry muttered somewhat petulantly. "Always have to have the last word."

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 _ **Please leave a review on your way out~!**_


	15. Smoke and Mirrors (KHR-HP)

**A/N:**

Thanks to **InsaneScriptist** who assisted greatly in the development of this plot bunny. All mistakes are my own.

 **Warnings** : Crossdressing (Harry). Mental instability (Petunia).

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 **Smoke and Mirrors**

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 **Summary:** _1981 was a year of tragedy for Petunia Evans-Dursley. However due to slightly changed circumstances, Harry Potter's life with the Dursleys is forever altered. When the preservation of the 'Greater Good' necessitates magical intervention years later, Harry's life takes yet another drastic turn._

 _Lal doesn't care why one of the boys dresses like a girl, but she's determined to keep these kids away from her idiot of a Boss._

 _Determined enough to call that idiot Colonello._

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Petunia Evans-Dursley did her best to stifle her sobs with a handkerchief as she gazed at the baby booties that she'd bought less than a week ago in her excitement about her and Vernon's new baby.

She'd miscarried just the day before yesterday.

It had been in the early hours of the morning when she'd felt that something was wrong and by afternoon she'd miscarried. She hadn't been very far along yet, she had just told Vernon two weeks ago and she'd bought the booties on her way home from the Doctor's office, having had the pregnancy medically confirmed.

Petunia hiccupped and reached out to trace the fluffy little pink socks, running her fingers over them with heartbreak etched on her face as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

She'd so desperately wanted Dudley to have a sibling, a little sister preferably. A girl for her and Vernon, one that Petunia could name after a flower as Petunia's mother had been and her mother's mother before that.

Vernon had been doing his best to support her, but there was very little that he could do for her right now. She'd even had trouble watching after dear Dudders the past few days, feeling entirely disconnected and lethargic, letting him misbehave without exacting his usual punishments.

Oh, she was never cruel, but a firm swat and withholding his daily sweet were par for the course if he acted out. Since her release from the hospital, however, she'd barely been able to muster up the strength to function.

Petunia started as the light from the streetlamps abruptly flickered out.

 _That's odd_. She thought, rising from her seat and ghosting over to her favorite vantage point to spy on Number Seven's driveway from between the thin slats of the entryway curtains. She'd glanced over at the kitchen and noted that the power didn't seem to be out, as the microwave light was still lit, just the streetlamps.

So it was that Petunia Evans-Dursley heard the conversation that took place before her doorstep during the night of November 1st, 1981.

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Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was known for his many official titles. Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwamp of the International Confederation of Wizards, and the Defeater of Dark Lord Grindelwald.

It was generally a bit of a shock, then, when new people met him in person for the first time knowing all of his official titles, to see that he had a rather unique sense of style.

He was a rather tall, thin elderly man with long white hair and an equally long white beard. He had small, half-rimmed spectacles which were perched upon his rather crooked nose, which seemed to have been broken a few times and reset incorrectly. He usually wore his traditional point wizard's hat, but he preferred colors such as pink and purple or patterns of twinkling stars on a more demure navy blue to the somber, perfunctory styles of robes that one would usually expect a man of his standing to wear. He favored heeled shoes with decorative buckles, and was otherwise the very picture of Merlin from the Disney animated movie The _Sword and The Stone_.

Headmaster Dumbledore had arrived on the street of Privet Drive for a very important reason, and not wanting to alarm the muggles if any of them happened to be watching, took a small device out of his pocket and clicked it open, causing the lights from the nearby streetlamps to zoom towards the small device and disappear into it, one by one, until the entire street was dark.

He walked a bit further down the street, the light of the waning moon allowing him to make out the form of the small tabby cat that was sitting stiffly on the sidewalk that led to the house marked by a decorative '4' on the door.

"Good evening, Professor McGonagall." The elderly man greeted the small cat. "I thought I might find you here."

The cat jumped into the air and rippled a few times before transforming into a tall, middle-aged with her light brown hair drawn up into a strict bun, and an impressive frown upon her face. The woman was dressed in a Victorian style dress that covered her from her neck down, with an ivory fastening displayed in the hollow of her throat, which only seemed to reinforce her disapproving expression.

"Albus." The woman greeted neutrally. "Is it as they say? Is You-Know-Who truly gone?"

"Indeed." The Headmaster smiled brightly, his teeth glinting in the low lighting. "Voldemort-" The woman flinched and glanced around warily, "-has been vanquished."

"And James and Lily?" She asked hesitantly.

The man gave her a knowing look and the smile slipped off of his face. "I'm afraid that James and lily perished, but young Harry survives."

"Is it true then?" The woman asked, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief that she pulled from her sleeve. "That he really went after them?"

"I'm afraid so." Dumbledore told her kindly. "Voldemort came to the house and blasted through the other defenses, first encountering James and then after James fell, continued on up into the nursery, where Lily made her stand and when Voldemort-" the woman flinched again. "-turned his wand on young Harry Lily's sacrifice protected him and sent the Killing Curse back towards him. All that was left were his robes."

"She was always a brilliant girl." Professor McGonagall said wetly, a fond smile on her face. "she excelled at Potions and Charms the best, but she was still a joy to have in the classroom. James, however, he was a Transfiguration prodigy. I'd hoped.." She swallowed a few times and struggled to keep her wobbly smile in place. "I'd hoped that he'd take my place one day."

The conversation trailed off as the sounds of a motorbike drew nearer. As the sound drew closer a large figure could be seen in the sky, a large man with wild, shaggy hair and goggles sat atop a flying motorbike with a sidecar, losing altitude as her drew closer to the two on the street, touching down and coming to a halt just short of them.

"Evenin' Headmaster, Professer McGonagall." The large man, who seemed to be part giant as he was both tall and large, greeted them as he dismounted and moved over to the sidecar. A few moments later the large man was gently cradling a small bundle. "Fell asleep jus' as we were flyin' over Bristol." The man informed as he turned to face the pair, tugging the blankets back a bit and exposing the face of a baby with a lightning shaped wound on his head.

"Excellent, Hagrid!" The Headmaster beamed at the man, gently taking the bundle from the man and tucking a letter into the blankets. The elderly man then walked up to the house with the number '4' on the door and placed the baby on the doorstep, the other two following after him.

"Oh." The woman said in agitation as she wrung her hands anxiously. "Isn't there any other way, Albus? These people are the worst sort of muggles! I saw the child throw a fit this afternoon! He yelled and screamed and kicked his mother all the way up the street over sweets!"

"Now, Minerva, I'm sure that it wasn't that bad." The man placated the anxious woman.

"It was!" She snapped at him. "He's a hero in our world! Why, there won't be a single child who won't know the name Harry Potter, mark my words!"

"Precisely my dear." The man told her as he stepped back from the doorstep. "He needs to be away from all the mania that is sure to come, and let us not forget that while Voldemort was vanquished, his followers weren't. The protections I've placed based on Lily's sacrifice and tied to Petunia and Harry based on the blood they share will keep him safe from any who would seek to harm him in retribution."

The woman sniffled and reached down to place a quick kiss on the baby's brow. "Be safe, little one."

The large man, Hagrid, burst into noisy sobs and pulled out what seemed to be a tablecloth to wipe his tears and blow his nose. "James an' Lily dead, 'n their baby boy off to stay with muggles." He said after a moment. "It's j's so tragic."

"I know Hagrid, but it's for the best." The Headmaster consoled the giant man. "Now we must be going, there are celebrations to attend and much work left to be done."

And with that the woman disappeared with a soft _pop_ and the giant man climbed atop the motorbike, leaving the elderly man alone on the mostly dark street with the baby he'd placed on the doorstep. "I'm sorry, young Harry." The man said to the night air. "I fear that you will not be happy here, but it's for the Greater Good."

With that the man walked away, returning the lights to the streetlamps and also disappearing with a soft _pop_.

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Petunia waited an extra five minutes before pulling her door open and taking the baby from the doorstep with shaky hands.

She didn't even bother to read the letter, tossing it into the bin that was kept in the living room and taking the toddler into the kitchen with her. Petunia put some watered down juice in a bottle that she'd still had in the cabinet and added a few drops of fever reducer, wince she wanted to be proactive just in case the baby had been exposed to too much cold air.

"Ridiculous magicals." She seethed as she jostled the baby enough to make him latch on to the bottle. "Leaving a toddler on a doorstep in November." Petunia bit back the urge to sob as she thought about her baby sister being _gone_.

Lily had been bright and vivacious and fearless, and for all Petunia feared being powerless against a magical, (as she had been against that Snape boy, who had been horrid to her when Lily wasn't looking and then had made Lily believe that Petunia had been making up tales), she had loved her little sister.

Petunia smiled down at the baby as he drank the last bit that was in the bottle and she tossed a kitchen towel over her shoulder as she burped him, wanting to be cautious even though he was old enough to not actually need burping.

You never knew _what_ those ridiculous magicals could have done to the poor thing!

The woman paced around her kitchen with her nephew in her arms as she thought about everything. She'd lost her baby just a few days prior and now she'd lost her sister and gained custody of her nephew.

However…

It was highly unlikely that she'd ever be able to have another baby, and actually it was likely that she'd need a hysterectomy before too long. During her hospital visit the doctors had discovered that her uterus had slipped down from where it was supposed to be and in a few years it could cause her major health complications.

So it was highly likely that she would never be able to have another child.

Petunia gazed down at the adorable baby and a mad plan began to form inside her mind.

If little Harry was magical like Lily had been then he would be invited to that Hogwarts School when he turned eleven. No one on Privet Drive actually _knew_ that Petunia's sister had had a boy, just that she had a married sister.

If she added just the right spin to the gossip, Petunia knew that she could justify giving the child her- and Lily's- maiden name instead of using _Potter_.

She looked down at the peacefully sleeping baby, momentarily pondering at the resilience of children, as she tried to flesh out her radical plan.

The boy would be gone before he hit puberty, and Vernon would go along with anything that would help her through this tragedy.

There was no need for her to raise a _nephew_ when she could raise a _niece_.

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Jamie Evans was an adorable little girl with bright green eyes, dark black hair that tinted red in the right lighting and fell in ringlets down her back, and a cheerful disposition.

She was adored by her dance coach, charmed all the ladies at tea with her lovely flower arrangements and proper manners, and could speak French nearly as well as she spoke the Queen's English. She enjoyed cultivating the yard with her mum, Petunia, and helped with the cooking and cleaning like a good girl.

Jamie also had a secret.

You see, Jamie was actually a little boy and she'd been taken in by her Aunt and Uncle when she'd been a baby and her parents had died in an accident.

Her name was actually Harry James Potter, but her mum had always wanted a little girl so it was her and Jamie's secret that Jamie wasn't actually….well, Jamie. Mum had taught her how to dress and act like a girl and how to hide the 'boy parts', but Jamie knew that she was really a boy like Dudley was, despite her dress-up act.

It was like playing make-believe _all the time!_

Well, Jamie was fairly certain that Uncle Vernon knew, but anyone who knew anything about Vernon Dursley knew that in the home his wife's word was law.

(Mum and Jamie had giggled about how much of a softy Uncle Vernon was when it came to things that mum wanted while they tended the garden together.)

Petunia had also sat Jamie down and told her about her real parents and the world they belonged to and how Jamie had to be really, really careful to keep from having outbursts of 'accidental magic', lest it upset Uncle Vernon.

While Petunia was very much her Mum, Uncle Vernon had always been rather distant from Jamie. The girl had little doubt that if she didn't go along with Aunt Petunia's dress-up game and upset her that Uncle Vernon would have little compunction about kicking her to the curb.

"Jamie! It's time for your piano lessons!" Mum called from downstairs.

"Coming!" She called back, gathering up her sheet music and dashing down the stairs.

Petunia fussed over the girl, righting her cute little sundress and fixing her slightly mussed hair. "You're a mess." The woman told Jamie warmly.

"Always!" Jamie chirped back, bouncing a little in excitement as she became impatient. "Mum! We'll be late!" She complained after a few more minutes went by and Petunia was still fussing with her hair.

"Yes, yes." The woman retorted with a smile. "Heaven forbid we be late to the Princess' lessons."

"Indeed." Jamie said in her best regal voice, sticking her nose in the air and striding forward, only to accidentally bump against the doorframe. "Owie." She whined as she rubbed her sore nose, ignoring her mum's chuckled.

"Not quite ready for the big leagues, daughter dear." Her mum told her as they made their way out the door and started the short walk to her piano teacher's house. "One day, though."

"Yeah." Jamie said as she smiled at her favoritest person in the whole world. "Someday."

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Albus Dumbledore frowned as he looked over the latest reports from Arabella Figg.

Albus had known that he'd been condemning young Harry to a less-than-pleasant childhood with the Dursley family, but he hadn't expected _this_.

The man steepled his fingers and peered at the parchment with the neat handwriting as he pondered over the information that Harry Potter had won the Little _Miss_ Surrey award.

While he'd promised Petunia that there would be no magical interference this really wasn't something that he could allow to go uninvestigated.

What to do?

All of his plans were for the Greater Good, after all.

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Vernon Dursley didn't know what had happened.

This morning his day had started off as any other, coming down to the lovely breakfast that his wife and niece, Oh, Vernon knew Jamie was Harry, and a boy, but having a daughter made Petunia happy, so therefore Harry was Jamie, end of story!, had prepared. While he'd eaten he had talked sports with his strapping young lad for a while, before kissing his wife goodbye and leaving Number Four plenty early for his job at Grunnings. That day he'd sealed a rather profitable deal and was greatly looking forward to going home and celebrating with his family.

When he'd arrived home, however-

Something had changed.

His wife was incredibly upset, and every time she looked at Jamie it seemed to become worse.

Petunia had always been rather delicate and after the miscarriage Vernon had been afraid that he'd need to take her to a Doctor, but once Jamie had come things had gotten better. Vernon was well aware of the fact that Jamie adored her mum, which meant that Petunia's new, disheveled state was the fault of someone from that world.

If things didn't go back to normal soon, and Petunia kept getting agitated by simply looking at her, then there would be one less resident of Privet Drive.

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Jamie sat in the cupboard under the stairs and hiccupped as she tried to remember what went _wrong_.

One morning she'd gotten up and started helping her mum with breakfast, and by that afternoon mum couldn't even look at her without seeming confused. Jamie hadn't thought much about it until mum had progressed from _confused_ to _irritated_ and then to _angry_.

The boy-who-was-a-girl burst out into fresh tears as she felt her head throb in pain from where mum had whacked her over the head with the frying pan earlier before she'd been shoved inside her 'new room'.

Once again she scrunched her eyes shut and tried to grab on to the wispy stands of memories from the day that everything changed, only to grow more frustrated as the memories danced just out of her metaphoric reach, causing her to cry harder.

 _I just want things to go back to how they were_! She thought as she buried her face into her arms _. I don't mind being Jamie even though I'm a boy! I just want mummy to go back to the way she was before!_

For the fifth time in a fortnight Jamie Evans cried herself to sleep.

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Uncle Vernon stopped the car, turning to look a Jamie with pitiless dark eyes. "This is your fault, _boy_." He growled at the terrified child. "Before you we didn't have any contact with those-those freaks. Then we took you in, out of the goodness of our hearts, and they come and _hurt my wife_."

Jamie flinched and huddled into herself. "I'm sorry." She whispered miserably. "I never meant to hurt mummy."

The man grunted and gestured towards the door. "Go on. The _freak_ entrance is somewhere around here, based on what Pet told me when she told me about her sister. Find them or don't I don't care, but I don't want to ever see you darken my door and bring trouble down on my family again, you hear?"

Jamie hiccupped slightly and nodded, slowly reaching up and opening the door, hoping that Uncle Vernon would change his mind and take her home, where mum would be waiting for her and everything would be okay agai-

"Go!" Vernon roared, taking a swipe at her. "Leave and take the misfortune you brought upon my family with you, you little _freak_!"

Jamie stood with her back against a lamppost and tears streaming down her face as she watched her Uncle drive away without a backward glance.

After a while her tears seemed to dry, and as the November cold seeped into her she realized that her Uncle had actually abandoned her on one of the empty side streets of London at twilight. Well, it wasn't an entirely empty street, but it seemed that everyone else was busy or entirely disinterested in the girl that had been dropped off by herself and left there.

The next few days were an exercise in running from the Bobbies, trying to take catnaps in places that were reasonably dry, scavenging food that she could manage to choke down and keep down, and having more and more incidents of 'accidental magic' as she grew more and more stressed and desperate.

The afternoon of the third day she had noticed that she was being followed by a strange man, and she'd tried to run and shake him off her tail, only to end up in a dead-end alleyway.

Jamie cried as the man advanced on her and she closed her eyes and wished with all of her being that she could somehow stop him.

There was a moment when the air seemed to still and then, like a wave breaking upon the shore, she felt power well up inside her that was different from what she sensed her magic felt like, and when she opened her eyes she saw bright Flames licking at her skin and the man still advancing towards her.

Jamie lunged forward and pushed against this new power, too scared and angry to feel the panic that tried to well up when her mind caught up to the fact that she was on fire.

Her attacker went down screaming, and Jamie smiled, then all she knew was darkness.

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Jamie woke up inside a dark room, her wrists bound, and she blearily blinked her eyes as she tried to take stock of her surroundings.

The memories of the man and the fire and her passing out crashed down on her suddenly and she bit her lip to keep from whimpering at the way her head throbbed with pain.

"She is a Sky, Maurice!" An accented voice said in English. "'She is very powerful. The boss will be pleased."

"Keep it down, idiot!" A gruff voice replied. "You know better than to say shit like that this close to Italy! Do you want to fight every other Flame using Mafia Famiglia out there? Maybe take on the fucking Vongola while you're at it?"

"Non!" The other voice shot back heatedly. "But it is true…."

The voices faded out and she heard a door close.

 _Okay, breathe Jamie._ She told herself firmly. They haven't figured out your secret yet. _You just need to figure out how to get out of here before that happens._

Mum- Aunt Petunia- had been clear about how bad it would be for people to find out about Jamie's secret and how important it was to make sure that never happened. According to mum it would be even worse than what happened to pretty little girls who dressed inappropriately.

Jamie managed to undo her bonds and she padded over to the window and peeked out cautiously.

She was somewhere along the coast, as she could see a bright expanse of water that stretch out from beyond the horizon. She was on the second floor of a building, but there was a ledge, and if she could just get the window open….

 _Take one thing at a time, sweetheart_. Mum's voice echoed in her ears as she began to feel panic creep up her spine and cloud her thoughts. _Whenever something seems impossible, take one thing at a time, and before you know it a big problem turns into smaller, more manageable ones_.

The memory of her mum telling her that calmed her and made her want to cry.

 _One thing at a time_. She told herself firmly as a few tears slipped out and she angrily brushed them away. _One thing at a time…._

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Lal Mirch was absolutely disgusted by her 'Boss' at the moment.

She had originally decided to partner with the CEDEF- or _Consulenza Esterna Della Famiglia_ \- because of her personal connection to the previous Boss. When the man had decided to retire, Lal had been asked to stay, and she'd done so mostly because she'd personally trained most of the Operatives. However, there were days like _today_ where she bitterly regretted doing so.

 _Stupid idio_ t. She seethed as she made her way down the sidestreets of Sanremo, Italy. She was in the small-ish Italian town as part of a CEDEF investigation into rumors of a French Famiglia trying to edge into the Serenti Famiglia's territory. The CEDEF were involved because the Serenti Famiglia were a subset of the Medici Famiglia, who were allied to the Vongola Famiglia.

Thus far they hadn't found any concrete evidence, but her stupid Boss was ready to pull up stakes and leave even though Lal had found plenty of circumstantial evidence that _something_ was happening. _Perhaps not what we originally suspected_ , Lal admitted in the sanctity of her mind _But something is happening and if we don't investigate thoroughly whatever it is could come back around to bite us in the ass later. Whatever is happening is bound to be bad for the alliance and the reputation of the Vongola, so it's better to be thorough than to look like incompetent idiots later._

 _But Iemitsu wants to pull out already because we're 'wasting resources'. Bah._ Lal snarled as she sidestepped a few people who were looking at her a bit too closely. _That_ _Stupid, idiotic, pig-headed moronic, imbecilic_ \- Lal's internal tirade cut off when she felt a brief flare of Dying Will Flames. _This area doesn't have any Dying Will Flame users according to our intel_. She thought as she ducked into the shadows and headed in the direction that she'd felt the Flames originate from.

When Lal arrived she found two children, the sources of the Flames, cowering from a pair of men that she was certain belonged to the Montet Familgia, due to the tattoos on the skin between their thumbs and index fingers.

Lal smirked evilly and adjusted her visor.

She did _so_ enjoy beating up idiotic men.

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Jamie had made it out of the window and onto the ledge before a new issue had cropped up.

Specifically, there was a boy about her age in the next room.

She'd chewed on her lip in indecision for a moment, but the binds on his hands were a pretty clear indication that he was in the same situation as her.

It had taken some tricky thinking, (and, unknown to her, some helpful accidental magic), but she'd managed to pry the window open enough to slip inside the room.

Once inside she'd shaken the boy awake. "Hey." She'd whispered urgently. "Hey, wake up!"

The boy groaned and slowly blinked his eyes open and she'd hurriedly place her hands over his mouth to keep him quiet. "I'm Jamie." She said quickly and quietly. "And I don't know how much longer we have before they come back. Come on, we've got to go!"

The boy had peered at her suspiciously but had nodded ad followed her lead.

She made it down to the ground with her new companion in tow before shouts were heard from the second-story windows.

" _Bollocks_." She cursed, grabbing the boy's hand and darting off into the streets.

They ran for what felt like forever, but was probably more like an half an hour or slightly longer before they hit a dead end and the men from earlier found them.

"Stupid brats!" One of the men snarled. "We should have given you a higher dose."

The boy stepped in front of her and faced them. " _Let us go_." He told them firmly in French, though his hands were trembling slightly. " _At least let her go_." He amended after a long moment.

The men burst out into cruel, mocking laughter. "What will you do if we don't?" The man with the accent steered.

"We'll fight." Jamie said boldly, stepping up beside the boy and glaring at the men.

"Oh, I'm so scared." The first man sneered at the children.

"You should be." Jamie shot back, tightening her hands into fists and trying to reach for that strange power that she'd used against her last attacker who had cornered her in a dead end alleyway.

After a few moments the Flames once again flickered to life around her, though much weaker than before, and a few moments later Flames also began to flicker around the boy, though they were a different color.

" _Let us go_." The boy said again, bringing his fists up in defiance.

"Make us." The second man snarled as the duo took a step forward.

"Gladly." A female voice rang out from behind the men.

A few moments later both children were treated to the sight of a blue-haired baby wearing a large red-tinted visor beating the crap out of the two men who had previously been holding them hostage.

"That should do it." The baby, (woman?), said with a great deal of satisfaction as she landed one last kick to the face of man number two. "Now then." She said as she stood on the head of one of the downed attackers. "Who are you two and where do I return you?"

Jamie's Flames flickered out and she swayed a little, managing to stay upright when the boy wrapped an arm around her. "I'm Jamie. I don't-" Her voice wobbled and eyes went teary. "I don't have a home anymore."

The boy shrugged. _"Me either."_

The baby, (woman?) sighed in aggravation. "Well, then, what's your name?"

The boy shrugged again, but this time there was tenseness in his frame that belied his unease. " _All the names I've been called up until now weren't very nice_."

The baby made a strangled noise that was impossible to decipher. "Great." She said after a long moment, running a small hand through her blue hair. "Fabulous." She muttered. "Can't leave you brats here." She made a sour face. "Not taking you to Iemitsu the Idiot either. But what-hm." The baby's lips curled into a smile. "That would work."

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"Lal my darling, this is a pleasant surprise, kora!" Colonnello chirped into the telephone receiver cheerfully. "Have you-"

"Colonnello I need a favor." The mildly irritated voice of his lovely Lal cut him off abruptly.

"Oh?" The blonde baby said curiously, a blond brow arching in surprise. "What do you need, kora?"

" _I found a couple of Flame Active brats. I need you to take them in so I don't have to watch them deal with Iemitsu's idiocy_."

Colonnello's brow arched further towards his hairline. "Isn't it standard CEDEF policy to take brats in and brainwash them, kora?"

" _Iemitsu has pushed to the limits of my tolerance, and I'm an Arcobaleno first and foremost_." Lal snarled venomously. " _Will you help me or not?"_

"Of course, kora!" Colonnello yelped. "Anything for my lovely Lal! They can be the children of our passionate lo-"

" _We'll be there in a few hours_."

The line went dead.

Colonnello grinned goofily as he hung up the phone.

His lovely Lal was coming to see him!

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Jamie squirmed uncomfortably as Lal looked her confusedly. "I don't mind the girl clothes." She murmured quietly. "It's like playing dress up."

It hadn't been long after the baby- who had instructed the two children to call her Lal- had hung up the small device that she'd used like a telephone that the baby had looked at Jamie closely and asked her why she was dressed as a girl.

"It was my mum's thing." Jamie hurried to explain. "She'd always wanted a daughter and lost her baby right before my parents died. When she took me in- my real mum was actually her sister- she decided that it would be our game for me to pretend to be a girl. I've always been referred to as a girl and dressed and acted like one." Jamie shrugged unconcernedly. "It doesn't really bother me, because I know that I'm really a boy."

"O…kay." Lal said after a long moment. "Well, as long as you're fine with it, but if you had a mum- or an aunt who you called your mum- why don't you have anywhere to return to?"

Jamie's eyes filled with tears. "Well, I-I always knew I was different. My mum-my aunt- said my real mum went to a school called Hogwarts."

"So she was a witch." Lal stated bluntly.

The girl nodded hesitantly. "I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but yes. That's what mum- Aunt Petunia- told me." The girl huffed in frustration and looked down at the ground. "I don't remember what happened! It's all wispy and out of reach when I try to force myself to remember, but one day mum just changed. At first she just got confused when she looked at me, and then she became irritated, and then angry. Uncle dropped me off in London and told me to never come back. He never really liked me." She finished sadly.

Lal snorted. "What a jackass. Sounds like someone messed with your head or your aunt's head. We'll have to get that looked at later." Lal turned to the boy. "Alright, brat. You're up."

The boy shrugged. " _My father was supposedly a big-shot from Italy and my mother was….free-spirited. I was raised by my maternal great-aunt who despised me and was taken about a month or so ago on my way home from school_."

"So you have a name." Lal pointed out.

" _I hate it."_ The boy's eyes flashed with many emotions, but anger was the most easy to recognize. "I'll never use it ever again."

The baby nodded her head. "Fair enough. Well, since I saved your hide I get to name you." She tapped her chin for a second. "All my coworkers are named after spices, sooooo- Basil." She proclaimed after a moment of thought. "Your new name is Basil."

" _Basil_." The name rolled over the boy's tongue easily. " _Basil_." He repeated again after a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. " _Basil. I like it_." He decided with a smile.

Lal smirked, "Good, because you're stuck with it."

Jamie giggled and turned to the other child, holding out her hand for him to shake. " _I'm Jamie, it's nice to meet you_!" She said in French.

The boy grinned back at her and reached out to accept her proffered hand and gave it a firm shake. " _I'm Basil, it's nice to meet you Jamie."_

Her smile stretched wider and Lal snorted in the background. "Alright, come on brats. Gotta get you out of here before my idiot of a 'Boss' shows up and makes me hurt him."

Both children laughed and followed her as she began walking, muttering uncomplimentary things about her Boss in a not-quite-quiet-enough voice as she did so.

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Fortunately Mafia Land was not all that far from their current location, so Lal had only needed to commandeer a helicopter instead of a plane. Two hours after she'd found the two children they were given clearance to land on the Mafia Land airstrip, and Colonnello was waiting for them when they disembarked.

"Lal, my lovely!" the blonde baby proclaimed excitedly, holding up flowers towards the woman. "It's fabulous to see you-"

Lal's fist connected with his face, causing him to crumple dramatically, to which the woman rolled her eyes- an action that was felt by the onlookers, despite her visor. "Idiot!" She growled as she ground her foot on his head. "How many times have I told you not to make a scene."

The light blush that stained her cheeks, that was just barely visible from her high collar, contradicted her words.

Collonello popped back up to his feet and presented her the flowers exuberantly. "These are for you, my lovely Lal- _ack_!"

Somehow the blue-haired baby had managed to set the bouquet on fire. "I despise daisies." She deadpanned as the flowers burned to ash.

The blonde didn't seem disheartened at all. Actually he'd whipped out a small notepad and was taking notes.

"No on the Daisies." He muttered as he scribbled.

Lal attempted to swipe the notebook, but the blonde danced just out of her reach and stowed it safely inside his jacket. "Ah-ah!" He sang brightly as the woman attempted to cause him bodily harm and he stayed just out of her reach. "I need to record the results so I can keep track of my progress!"

"What progress?" Lal muttered as she stopped chasing the idiot and crossed her arms in front of her.

"Why, of all the things my lovely Lal doesn't like, kora!" The blonde chirped back cheerily. "I've got a list of-"

"Whatever, idiot." Lal cut the blonde off when it looked as if he was about to start waxing poetic about his stupid list. "These are the brats." She told him, gesturing to the two amused, confused, somewhat scared children behind her. "Basil is the taller one, and Jamie is the one in the skirt." She turned to the two children and pointed at the blonde baby. "This is Collonello. He's going to be taking care of you so I don't have to watch you both be subjected to Iemitsu the Idiot." Then she turned back to the blonde baby. "I have to go or the Idiot will get himself killed or worse."

"But you just got here!" Colonnello wailed as the blue-haired baby swiftly made her way back to the helicopter and efficiently powered it up and took off. "Bye, my love!" Colonnello yelled while waving like an idiot, (in Lal's opinion). "Don't worry, I'll take good care of our children while you're gone!"

Again, Lal's eyeroll could be _felt_.

Soon, however, Lal's helicopter was just a dot on the horizon and Colonnello turned to face the newcomers. "Alright, brats! Like my lovely Lal said, I'm Colonnello and I'm the Guardian of Mafia Land, which is the island that you're one- _why are you in a skirt, kora_?" He exclaimed after he got a good look at Jamie.

The disguised girl rolled her eyes and repeated her story.

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Mafia Land was an island roughly the size of Iceland that was entirely shielded from non-Flame users and the secret magical enclaves of the world. It had a complex structure that allowed it to make short-distance 'jumps' and could pass through spaces that were far too small for an island of its size. Back before the statute of Secrecy was implemented there were magicals who also could use Flames or were allied with Famiglia who had Flame users. Those magicals contributed the bulk of the hardware that allowed the island to 'jump', be shielded and hidden, and maintain its temperate climate no matter what the local weather was like came from.

Once the Statute of Secrecy had been instituted most of the 'how to' information was lost, but whoever was in charge of the island was also responsible for finding magicals who could perform maintenance on the island's systems.

The island was neutral territory for any upstanding Mafia Famiglia to conduct business, but it was also an amusement park, wildlife preserve, and neutral ground for freelance Mafia workers. Mafia Land accepted and vetted contracts for hitmen, thieves, fences, assassins, (not to be confused with hitmen- their rules were entirely different!), forgers, and all other manner of underworld-flavored professions. There was also a business district and a residential district. It sort of went without saying that there were also top-notch medical facilities in the place as well, due to the high risk of injury that most of the Mafia Land patrons' professions held.

The island itself was always in motion, partly as a safety feature to make it far more difficult to attack.

Mafia Land's year 'started' off of the coast of Norway, at which point the island floated south through the North Sea, passing between Britain and France, before it pathed back into the Atlantic and ran along France, Spain, and Portugal. Then it 'jumped' into the Mediterranean Sea. Once the Mediterranean Sea tour was finished the island made its biggest jump from the Mediterranean Sea, just south of Cypress, into the Persian Gulf. From there the island floated along the outer edges of Iran, Pakistan, and India.

Just short of the tip of India, the island starting moving further south, running along the outside edge of Singapore before curving between Australia and Timor-Leste. At that point the island started moving northward, weaving amongst the plethora of islands that dotted the South Pacific Sea, before eventually ending up off the coast of Hong Kong. From there the island ran between mainland Asia and Taiwan, along the coast of China all the way up to just south of Dalian, China.

At that point the island ran along the coast of Korea and back around the outside of Japan, and sometimes it would circle around to the other side of Japan if there was still time left in the schedule. Once done with the Japan tour, the island then ran between Russia and Alaska before coming around to pass along the northern edge of Russia before ending back at the starting point just off of Norway.

Mafia Land, when not under the control of an Arcobaleno, was governed by three unallied Famiglia. They were voted for in an election held under the watch of the Vindice and there could only be one Famiglia per country. So, for example, the CEDEF and the Vongola could not take up two slots of the island's governing Famiglia as they were both based out of Italy. Mafia Land Enforcers were then trained to uphold the laws and regulations of the island. Since Colonnello's induction as the island's Guardian, however, he hadn't bothered replacing any of the Enforcers, and all of the previous ones were either dead or had gone back to their Famiglia, so Jamie and Basil would be the first two Enforcers that had been inducted under Colonnello's tenure.

By the time Jamie and Basil had been residents of Mafia Land for two months, they were nearly grateful to their kidnappers.

 _Nearly_.

They had quickly settled into a routine of helping Colonnello with his rounds in the mornings before being shuffled off to whomever was their tutor was for the day. They had also learned that Colonnello was a _perfectionist_ when it came to any aspect of their training or education. However, he was also a lot of fun and took Jamie's preferences for girl clothes and the female pronouns with no more than a few quips about princesses and how he expected her to be as fierce as her 'lovely mother Lal'.

At first the comments had bothered Jamie a little, as she was still smarting from the loss of her mum Petunia, but as time went by and Lal called to check-in on them every-so-often she grew comfortable with the gentle teasing and began to settle into her new life.

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Jamie and Basil had learned very quickly that while Colonnello did not require them to wear an official uniform- other than the bright pink armbands that designated them as Mafia Land Enforcers, pink being used because it was not immediately associated with a particular Flame type- he did expect them to dress sharply. Meaning that he expected their clothes were to be clean, neatly pressed, and able to be easily maneuvered in when they came down to breakfast. Failure to adhere to Colonnello's clothes regulations earned them extra runs through the ever-changing and evolving obstacle course _alone_.

Jamie went through several outfits before she finally settled on one that she really enjoyed. Amusingly enough to Colonnello, it looked much like something Lal would have worn before the Curse. Jamie typically wore capris that hit about her mid-calf and were usually black or another darker color, though her belt was usually the same color as her shirt and changed often.

Since Colonnello insisted that both children wear boots, as some of their duties did take them out into the forest on the island and he wanted their legs protected, Jamie tucked her capris into her just-short-of-her-knee boots. She usually wrapped a layer of white bandages around where the boots ended, to keep the leather from rubbing too much and irritating her. She preferred brighter colors for her tops- oranges, reds, purples, mostly- and usually wore a long sleeved soft-knit shirt that she rolled the sleeves up on. Over that she wore a short-sleeved button up shirt that she left untucked. The over shirt was usually white or beige or cream. Of course, on her left arm she tied her pink armband that designated her as a Mafia Land Enforcer. Due to the amount of time she spent in the sun Jamie's hair had many streaks of red filtered through it.

Jamie and Lal also had 'girl time' about once a month- or whenever Lal could get away from her so-called Boss for a few days- and during one of those times they had gone to the hairdresser and put blue steaks into Jamie's hair to mimic Lal's own hair color. So with her hair and outfit sort of mimicking Lal, it made the resemblance between the two rather uncanny, despite Jamie's bright green eyes.

Basil, on the other hand, preferred tan cargo pants that were tucked into his equally tanned just-short-of-his-knee boots. His shirts were also soft knitted ones, but his colors ran the gamut of blue and preferred short-sleeves, and he typically wore a sleeveless white shirt as an undershirt. He wore a jacket that was much like Colonnello's, only it was tan to match his pants and boots and he usually left it unbuttoned. Around his left arm was his pink armband.

With Basil's bright blue eyes and sandy-blonde hair, he really did sort of look like he could be related to Colonnello most days!

So, really, they were both rather adorable as they trailed after Colonnello like obedient ducklings. The Rain Arcobaleno made sure to have some of the other Mafia Land residents snap plenty of pictures. Some he sent to his lovely Lal- these two were the children of he and Lal's glorious love, after all!- and the rest he scrapbooked. Naturally, as Colonnello had a rather unique view of parenting most of the pages had themes such as 'Our Children's First Lethal Obstacle Course' with pictures of the two tumbling through an obstacle with terror etched on their faces or 'Survival Training, Part I' in which the two were facing off against the wildlife of the island's preserve with nothing but their Flames and their own ingenuity.

It was the thought that counted, right?

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Jamie rolled over as the sound of Reveille echoed through her quarters. _Sometimes_. She thought with a groan as she forced herself out of bed and stumbled her way towards Basil's room- her brother hated getting up in the mornings. _I think that Dad enjoys himself just a bit too much._

The newly-minted nine year old opened the door to her brother's room and flopped on top of him. "Morning sunshine!" She chirped extra cheerily. "You know Dad's not going to shut the stupid noise up until we are both down in the yard for morning exercises!"

Basil, whose birthday was the twenty-third of July and had recently turned ten to Jamie's nine, groaned miserably and tried to burrow deeper into his pillows. "Gerroff." He muttered petulantly.

"Nope!" Jamie chimed back breezily, hopping up and snatching the blanket off of her brother, earning herself a growl. "This obnoxious tune gives me a huge headache, so up you get!"

Basil started muttering about terrible sisters and evil parents but he did finally roll out of bed and stumble towards his dresser.

Her job completed, Jamie bounced downstairs.

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Later that day Jamie and Basil were walking down one of the merchant streets of Mafia Land, keeping an eye out for anything that went against Mafia Land's neutrality policies.

The policy meant that two people could get into a fight and cause grievous harm or even death. However, the fight could not have been paid for- as in a hit. Of course, there were a number of loopholes- Mafia types loved those- but anyone stupid enough to be blatant about picking a fight, hurting or even killing someone, and being paid to do so while on the island answered to Colonnello. And usually the Vindice as well, if Colonnello did not choose to execute them.

Stupidity was punishable by death, after all. If you were going to break the rules, do not get caught doing so. It was basically the first rule of Mafia Land.

Given the amount of time Colonnello had been Mafia Land's protector and his inability to be bought, most of the Island's visitors did not bother to try their luck. There were those reckless idiots who did not listen, however.

Of course there were many other policies and rules for Mafia Land, but the essential principle was that the island was neutral ground and no one- and no group- was allowed to disrupt that.

Jamie munched on her soft pretzel as her eyes scanned the people around her, Basil doing the same beside her. " _Is it just me or has there been way more visitors than normal to the Mahajan shop?_ " She casually mentioned to her brother in a conversational tone. The easiest way to encourage eavesdroppers was to lower your voice below a normal tone, after all. She was also speaking in Siculo-Arabic.

Siculo-Arabic was a language thought to be extinct by modern linguists. It was the early parent of the Maltese language that was spoken by natives of the island of Malta. Colonnello had learned it after he took over Mafia Island, as the original creator of the Wards had spoken it and left the texts behind. The language was most like not perfectly spoken by the three of them- well, four if one counted Lal, who did not speak it bust could understand it- as the creator had left texts that had referenced the contemporary Maltese to them. Contemporary when the island was created, that is, so _that_ Maltese had needed to be translated into modern Maltese in order to make any sense to Collonnello so he could try to decipher the Siculo-Arabic language to begin with. In the end, however, they had a language that was quite unique to them and could be used without attracting undue attention, all the while being entirely misleading as none of the modern translations would make any sense to anyone who happened to overhear.

" _Yeah._ " Basil replied in kind. " _Do you think we should tell Dad?_ "

" _Probably_." Jamie responded as they mutually decided to take a seat at a nearby open-air café so they could subtly keep an eye on their target. " _He said something about there being a crack-down on the trading rings in the Middle East by the United Nations, and we needed to keep an eye out to make sure they do not try to use the Island as a new place to base their operations_."

'Trading Rings' was the colloquial term for those who engaged in the unlawful trade of humans. It was not allowed to take place on Mafia Land, as slavery of any sort was a big no-no. There was a bunch of grey area that was taken advantage of in reference to Master-Apprentice relationships, but those were regulated by Mafia Commission. Mafia Land, on the other hand, did not aid, abette, or encourage trading rings in any form, and being caught while attempting to set up such an operation on Mafia Land was a death sentence- if you were lucky. However, when governments decided to do crackdowns on such things there were always greedy bastards willing to risk themselves to try and take their less-than-humane trade through the underworld, and no place was better positioned for such a thing than Mafia Land.

So it was something that Jamie and Basil knew to be vigilant of. In their time on the island they had learned that the nicest, most pleasant-seeming people could be hiding the darkest, most disgusting intentions. It had been a harsh lesson for the both of them, who thought after being kidnapped and trained as Enforcers they could read people fairly well. It was that series of incidents that had shifted Colonnello to 'Dad' and Lal to Mom'.

" _Why can people not treat others the way they wish to be treated in turn?_ " Basil muttered as he sipped at his tea. After subtly checking it for any harmful substances, of course. Their Dad was _insane_ sometimes.

" _Because people suck_." Jamie chirped back cheerfully. " _And some have inadequacy issues so large they only feel powerful when they are tearing someone else down. Also, some are just taught to be that way from birth_." She shrugged as she, too, checked her drink for any unpleasant surprises before sipping at it.

" _I suppose you are right_." Basil sighed as he slouched and fussed with his cup. " _I just don't like it, you know?_ "

" _Yeah_." Jamie shot her brother a warm smile over the rim of her own cup. " _I get it. I don't like having to take things to Dad, either. I mean, we do not have to deal with the executions just yet, but it makes me sad that people throw away their talents and lives just to be scumbags."_

Basil smiled ruefully at his sister. " _Yeah, pretty much_."

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 _ **Please leave a review on your way out~**_

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Also, Harry is very much male, but has dressed like a 'girl' pretty much his entire life. He likes the clothes and is used to the pronouns. I have no idea how he will (might) develop from here. He just has a unique view of gender and gender 'normalities'.

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	16. Dragonfire (Warcraft-HP)

**A/N:**

I reclassified 'Fragments' as I have a whole slew of stories that would fit well here and I didn't see the need to make a whole new series for them.

Sorry if that annoys anyone! I am just having a lot of flighty feels...

This is a **Warcraft/HP** crossover little thingy.

* * *

 **Dragonfire**

Desperate mothers are a force like no other but that doesn't make their actions _just_.

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Lily Potter was known for her bright red hair and fiery protectiveness of those she loved. But she was just a mortal woman, fighting against forces that were so far beyond her skill level she may as well be an ant before giants.

She tried- _Merlin_ , she tried- but she was a newcomer; a transplant. An unwanted invasive species to be weeded out of the garden of Wizarding Britain in blood and fire.

Still she fought. Even when what she needed to do meant being cruel- testing curses to find counters; a mouse's life was worth less than a human's, but it still _hurt_ her to cause suffering of any sort.

Then, in a skirmish outside Blackpool, the woman was hit with a curse she had never seen before- violently magenta that burned brightly against the darkness of the chaotic night- and Lily Potter went to sleep.

(And in the newly made spiderline cracks of her soul, a dragon awoke.)

 **-XXX-**

Rheastrasza was a Red Dragon. One of Alexstrasza the Lifebinder's brood and she was full of pride about that fact.

Desperate mothers are a force like no other but that doesn't make all of their actions _just_.

Rheastrasza the Red and Lily Potter met and melded in the days Lily's body lay motionless on crisp white sheets at a school hidden in the highlands of Scotland.

(When Lily-who-was-Rheastrasza-who-was-Lily blinked awake she smiled and nodded and kissed her husband and never told a _soul_ of her blending; one which gave her a unique opportunity to protect the young life growing inside her belly.)

 **-XXX-**

"Do you swear to me, Sirius Orion Black, that you would do anything to protect my son?" Lily's wand was steady where she held, tip pressed firmly against the young Black's trachea. "Even if it means giving up your world? Everything you know? If it takes you a million miles away with only your brother's son for company? Will you swear this vow to me, here and now, not even breathing a word of it to your brother?" The wood creaked in her grip as she rotated her wand tip just a bit. "Answer me!"

Because she was seven months pregnant and the twisting in her gut that told her something terrible was coming was a constant drumbeat in her ears. And Rhea was a protector of life and Lily was a terrified young woman in the war and together they had come up with a desperate, terrible plan.

Just in case.

Remus was off doing 'missions' for Headmaster Dumbledore and something about Peter made her inner dragon snarl. Sirius Black was impulsive and dangerous and reckless but he was her husband's brother and if there was one person in the whole of the Great Dark Beyond that she would trust her child- still growing, not yet born- to, it would be this man who loved so deeply and entirely.

She would prefer to raise her son herself, of course, but she had a feeling- a premonition. And Rheastrasza had lived long enough to learn to listen to those whispers, the ones on the very edge of awareness. Ones that whispered inconvenient truths that most dismissed because surely _that_ won't happen! But Rheastrasza knew; had died and sacrificed one son to save the world and this, this son would live if she had to break every promise she had ever made on the way down.

That was why she had shoved her as-good-as brother-in-law against the pretty yellow wallpaper in their Godric's Hollow home, her husband deeply asleep from the potion she had fed him after he had come home from a long day of Auror training. Sirius as usual- came for dinner and found a dragon waiting instead of duck or shepherd's pie.

Sirius' hand raised, his grey-blue eyes swirling with emotion as he wrapped his tanned hand around her wrist and shoved her wand point deeper into his neck. "I swear, on my very soul, that I will do everything in my power to protect my brother's son."

'Not good enough!" Rhea-Lily snarled, tears shimmering in her eyes as she pressed her wand deeper into the Black brother's neck. "Everything in your power, mine, _and_ James'!"

"I swear it." The confused expression he had been wearing sinking into grim acceptance as he let his hand fall away from her wrist.

Rosy lips pressed together in a thin, trembling line Rhea-Lily nodded, withdrawing her wand and leading her brother-in-law into her workroom. "Stand in the center."

Sirius did so without question.

It made her ache, a little, as she activated the ritual- one made from memories of Rhea and Lily herself- knowing that she was condemning the man to a world he didn't know in the event of her and her husband's demise.

But not enough to stop. Not enough to cancel the blood runes and untangle the web of secrecy magic. Not enough to let him keep the memory of what she had done to him.

(Sirius and James woke up to playful splashes of water from Lily's wand and when she cried over the roasted duck she served for dinner they assumed it was only the pregnancy hormones again and did their best to make her laugh.)

 **-XXX-**

When the green light explodes from Voldemort's wand, nothing goes as planned.

(Because Rheastrasza was a Red, not a Blue. And Lily Potter was a witch, a blessed child connected to the heartbeat of the soul of her world.)

 **-XXX-**

When Sirius Black claws his way into consciousness it's to the sound of wailing toddler _s_ in a place that looks a lot like Hogwarts Greenhouse Number Seven.

Except it isn't.

Sitting up slowly, the man tried to tamp down on the urge to vomit as he took in the sight of what appeared to be an untamed forest.

One he had never seen before.

In his mind's eye he remembers a night at his brother's house, a wand pressed to his throat and a teary-eyed red-haired woman. He remembers promising an impossible promise and the roar of a dragon two blocks before he found Peter, spiriting him away from his revenge. Sirius remembers what felt like the Imperious directing him to the Bank and then to Number Four Privet Drive in a suburb in Surrey nearly six days later.

Sirius remembers holding his godson- his only link to his brother and the fierce witch who loved him- and traveling the muggle way to the place James had proposed to Lily, deep within a hidden clearing near the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.

Sirius remembers looking to the sky, bags strapped to his back, Harry in his arms, and an inhuman roar ringing in his ears as lightning streaked blue and wanton down onto the stone marker where the Marauders had taken their oaths, where a young man proposed to a young woman, and-

(Rhea was a Red, not a Blue. But Alexstrasza the Lifebinder, the Dragonqueen, was the sister of Ysera the Dreamer. And even a slumbering a world soul can hear the cries of their people. And so when Sirius Black left, falling through a portal powered by the lifeblood of the Earth itself, another child touched by fate went with him.

Alice Longbottom had been Lily Potter's dormmate for seven years and the women had had a deep bond even if life and a war waged in children's blood had drawn them apart. And through the nightmare of tortured screams at the Longbottom Manor that dark night Alice reached out for something- _anything_ \- that would save her precious son. And in a blaze of emerald fire- that would go on to rage furiously across what was once Longbottom Hall for sixteen days and seventeen night while the sky cried melancholy tears- Neville Longbottom was hurled through the snapping, crackling portal a hairsbreadth before it closed.)

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	17. Starlord & Stowaway (HP-GOTG)

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In Yondu's defense…..he didn't know _shit_ about Earth.

What he _did_ know was that the fine levied against captains who were found operating on backwater systems near no-go-, blacklisted jump points was nearly eight million units. And this particular galaxy was monitored fairly closely by those assholes at the Intergalactic Non-Interference Corps.

The blue skinned, red electronic fin topped alien shrugged at the two boys the retrieval beam had caught, holding a med device out and noting that both of them were only part human. And the stowaway looked…..well, Yondu knew that look. "Well, we got us two for the price 'o one, boys!" He hollered to his ramshackle crew, who cheered loudly. Yondu glanced at his first mate and said. "Toss 'em both in one of the cleaners' quarters and lock 'em in. We'll deal with them once we make it out of this boring galaxy."

"Yes, cap'n!" His first mate acknowledged, thumping his right fist over his heart- on a strange flame-like symbol- before the human space pirate reached forward and tossed the two unconscious boys over his shoulder like grain sacks.

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Harry James Potter was very confused.

But after the week he'd had, that wasn't really an unusual state for him to be in.

His crazy week had started six says ago, when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had bundled he and Dudley up and out the doors of Number Four in the wee hours of the morning.

" _Now listen here, you little freak." Uncle Vernon's jowls were quivering even more violently than usual, having taken the young Potter aside once they reached an airfield of some sort. "We're going to take a plane and fly to a conference with the owner of my company. If I sense that even a_ drop _of your freakishness slips out and messes this up for me, you'll be eating nothing but stale bread for a…a month! And double chores!"_

 _Harry nodded fearfully and they had boarded the fat silver plane._

Then, of course, once they had made it to St. George, Missouri, things had gotten even weirder.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had made a mad dash to get him 'new' clothes- shorts, a t-shirt, socks, underwear, _and_ shoes!- from a weird store called 'JC's Pennies' when they were rather unsuccessful in maintaining that he was a 'hellspawn'.

That was day two.

Of course that was before the Dursleys' lunch with the owner of the company, who- vocally and frigidly- found one of Vernon's jokes to be in bad taste, leaving the eldest Dursley to scramble to try and make up lost ground with his bosses' boss. In the aftermath of the Disaster Lunch they took to a shopping center, where Aunt Petunia seemed to buy one of everything sweet for Dudley, who was in tantrum mode.

That was how they had ended up the St. George hospital, hours after bedtime. Because Dudley had gotten a stomachache that had turned into a really bad case of the trots, which sent Aunt Petunia into hysterics.

Harry been listening, quietly, in the hallway for _hours_ when a nice nurse-lady came by and gave him some sort of fruit cup, having heard his stomach protesting on one of her fifty-seven trips by him.

Naturally Uncle Vernon had come out of Dudley's room and seen Harry being given the fruit cup. Pasting on a smile that looked homicidal to Harry, Uncle Vernon had ordered Harry to go wait by the rental car.

And Harry had!

But-

When he saw the boy from the room down the hall- _"She'll probably pass tonight, poor dear." Nice-nurse had murmured to one of her fellow nurses, out of range from the family in question, but near enough to Harry. "That boy is going to be heartbroken without his mama. Single parent, so he'll be an orphan. I think the uncle might take him, but the family isn't really- well, I had better not say."-_ come flying out of the glass doors, towards the small park Harry had glanced at the doors of the hospital and decided to go after him.

Harry knew what it was like to be an orphan. An orphan with family that wasn't thrilled with his existence.

Then, just as he walked up behind the boy, there was a bright light and-

 _Darkness_.

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Peter and Harry high-fived each other. "Score!"

Yondu, his arms crossed across his leather-clad chest, rolled his red eyes and _thunked_ them both on the head. "Yes, _geniuses_. Congratu-fucking-lations."

Harry and Peter stiffened, turning around nearly comically slowly to see their captain staring down at them.

"Ahahaha!" Harry laughed nervously, slinking closer to the control console they had been hidden behind, his arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck. "Hi Yondu!"

"Don't you 'hi' me, you little stowaway!" The blue-skinned captain barked, reaching forward to grab both boys by their ears and hauling them over towards the crewmembers- nonhuman, but humanoid- who had gotten doused in the sparkly pink glitter. "Now, tell me where you gots' the glitter!"

Harry bit his lip nervously and Peter kicked him in the shin.

"Well?" Yondu prompted, twisting their ears a bit.

"We-we got it from the lady-girls. On Parthax!" Harry cried out, tears appearing in his eyes.

"We _stole_ it!" Peter corrected, shooting Harry a sour look through his own teary eyes. "From that one lady who said Ravagers were all scum!"

Yondu let go of their ears and clapped a heavy hand on each of their shoulders after spinning them around to face him. "The lady with the _really_ _expensive_ data pad?" He demanded.

"Yeah." Harry replied glumly, scuffing his shoe on the dirty floor of the upper hold. "We stole her datapad and bought some random crap from the nearby vendors before we slipped it back in her room."

"Define ' _some'_." Yondu commanded, kneeling down to their eye level. When the boys said nothing, the man whistled, causing a laser-trailing arrow to detach itself from its holster and hover warningly.

Peter scowled and looked over at Harry, who scowled in return. "I stole it an' Harry hacked it." The slightly older boy grumbled, crossing his arms petulantly.

"It wasn't _hard_." Harry muttered, shifting uncomfortably under Yondu's grip. "Hacking into-"

" _Dude_!" Peter protested, causing Harry to glance up guiltily, blanch, and then look down.

"Well, it looks like we've got a couple con artists on our hands." Yondu drawled, letting his arrow return to its sheath as he slid smoothly to his feet and smirked at his crew. "Maybe I won't let ol' Brahl eat you two after all!" The captain stepped past them and starting yelling at the milling crewmembers in Xandarian.

Harry could recognize it, but couldn't speak it. Yet. And Brahl was a pink skinned alien with little ridges instead of hair, with milky, too-wide eyes, and a sleazy look about him that made Harry and Peter scared the humanoid _would_ actually eat them.

"Your generosity is unparalleled." Harry whispered to Peter, who doubled over laughing.

"Dude! You've gotta stop watching those stupid Nova dramas!" Peter wheezed as they edged away and made a break for their rooms.

"Try an' block them and I'll block your favorite skin channel!" Harry threatened seriously as they hit the end of the upper catwalk, climbed on the rails, and made the jump onto the water pipes that would take them to their rooms without the need to go through the common areas of the ship.

The boys shard a grin as they slid around the last corner, input their password, and then activated the door before the second apart of their prank went off. Harry tapped furiously at a datapad they had stolen a while back, hacking into the security cams just in time to see their least favorite band of idiots step on the platform they had rigged one of Harry's 'energy effects' to.

Well, one of Harry's 'energy effects' and one of Peter's rig jobs.

The boys held their breaths as Horuz- a human-ish jerk with scraggly hair and a dumb beard- and his cronies stepped on the platform support-

"Work, work, work." The two boys chanted softly, their eyes glued intently to the camera feed.

They both whooped with delight when the man's clothes disappeared a split second before six rapid-fire splashes of paint coated the trio of morons in fluorescent colors.

"Yes!" They both cheered, heady with success and their door-verified alibi. "It actually worked! That's awesome!"

Both of them gulped in trepidation when Yondu strode into frame and looked directly up at the camera.

"How does he always know?!" Harry cried, cutting the feed and hiding their datapad away, both of them wide-eyed with terror at what the lead Ravager might do to them.

"Maybe he reads minds?" Peter offered weakly as they counted down the seconds it would take Yondu to reach their room.

Which was only clean because Harry regularly scrubbed it.

The door disengaged and there stood the captain, the electronic red fin on top of the blue-skinned man's head seeming to glow ominously. "You two-" The captain announced with a chilling, sharp-toothed grin. "-have been holdin' out on me. Training rooms. Five minutes." Then he reengaged the door, his thick boots impacting heavily with the metal of the hallway.

Peter and Harry gazed at each other in horrified dread for a long, suspended moment before Yondu's words sunk in and they scrambled to get ready.

"We are _so dead_!"

" _Deader_ than dead!"

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